


Unveiled

by Jazz_2_chess



Series: Unleashed [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Damian Wayne is Robin, Developing Relationship, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Inexperience, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazz_2_chess/pseuds/Jazz_2_chess
Summary: Tim realises quite too late, how tempting Damian looks in a suit. Damian, in turn, has dreams about a certain Red Robin, he'd rather not have.Apart from that (and if all of that weren't enough for our favorite bats), a serial killer is on the loose, carving satanic symbols into people's chests and filling their mouths with flowers.Easy as pie, right?
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Series: Unleashed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940515
Comments: 24
Kudos: 137





	1. Tease me

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series but can be read as a stand-alone. I really hope you'll like it and leave me feedback, seeing as this is my very first attempt at writing for Tim and Damian. 
> 
> Kudos & Comments are much appreciated.

> _You walk in and my heart beats differently..._

The gala had been planned for the better part of a month. Still, Damian didn’t feel ready. He hated social gatherings. Especially, with the fake smile his father put on to entertain his guests. That smile would sometimes haunt his dreams, right along with a blade piercing his skin.

He was putting on his suit when a dream from last night came back to him. A quite different one. He had woken up drenched in sweat but without the lingering taste of death in his mouth. When he closed his eyes, the images he had seen were overwhelming. Hands, tracing patterns over his chest. Icy blue eyes, narrowed to a slit seeing right through him. His heart beat faster and he put a hand over it to calm down.

It had just been a glitch.

Nothing more.

Of course, Drake would be considered attractive but that did not mean anything. He was above carnal desire. And he certainly didn’t want Drake like that. Or any way at all. No matter that the boy sinking down to his knees had had jet black hair and Drake’s smirk, Drake’s nose, Drake’s _hands_. Damian shuddered, forcing down a wave of emotion he didn’t dare think about.

Dreams, he reminded himself forcefully.

_Only dreams…_

* * *

Suits.

Always with the suits.

Tim hated putting that thing on. Not because he didn’t like how he looked in it, but because it made him something, he wasn’t. Not yet anyway. He put on his shoes – shiny, dress shoes, no good in a fight but excellent for the dance floor. He sighed. Why did Bruce always expect him to dance? He couldn’t even walk straight with the way he had been feeling lately. It wasn’t like he would earn Bruce a fortune by dancing.

“Timmy?” Oh, for Christ’s sake. Not that. He had had it up to here with the things Dick wanted from him if he called him that. Turning around, he noticed how nonchalantly Dick leaned against his door. Which was not nonchalantly at all. He was nervous, Tim noted, grinning too broadly with a glint in his eyes that was restless.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.” As if. Dick wouldn’t linger like that if he didn’t want something. Probably to erase some more pictures or similar bullshit.

“Dick-” he sighed “I’m not in the mood to play 21 questions, alright?”

It was true. He had been on patrol last night, had done his coursework for uni and now he had to attend another one of Bruce’s galas. To say it wasn’t his day would be putting it mildly.

“It’s Jay…” Of course, it was. Who else was on Dick’s mind 24/7?

“What about him?”

“He’s gonna attend tonight.” Again, with stating the obvious. Bruce had told Tim already – probably as a precaution – Jason would be attending, under an alias, of course, five days ago. While that meant a higher chance of things going wrong, Bruce had been happy. At least, Jason was trying.

“I heard,” Tim merely said, gesturing for Dick to arrive at the point already. If there was one.

“I-” he hesitated, something that wasn’t Dick at all. It made Tim worry.

“What if he gets mad?”

“Mad?” Like that wasn’t Jason’s usual mood. If he did one thing exceptionally well, it was being mad.

“Jealous,” Dick reiterated, “I’m worried he’s gonna get jealous.”

“Why would-” and the penny had dropped, “shit.” Dick’s grin turned sad when he realised, Tim had figured it out.

“He doesn’t do well with- sharing…” You can say that again, Tim thought. Jason had always been particular about his things. And apparently, Dick counted as one of them now, so he wouldn’t take well to people flirting with him.

“It’s just- can you keep an eye on him?”

“Why? You plan on skipping out?” It wasn’t that Tim wouldn’t do him the favour, but he was exhausted and he needed all of his brain to keep up with idiots pretending to know jackshit about how to run a company like Wayne Enterprises.

“No. But they always wanna talk to me. All the time.” He could see plainly how exhausted Dick was by the constant chatter about him. Maybe it was because Dick had been the first but he had gotten the worst of it over the years. While Tim was forced to listen to CEOs talk, Dick was hit on left and right by people who got what they wanted without questions asked. Throwing someone like Jason in the mix, with a quick temper and a possessive streak a mile wide, wasn’t the best idea.

“I’ll try.”

“Thanks, Timmy,” Dick glanced over his shoulder before leaving, “looking dashing tonight.”

With a wink and a skip in his step, he left.

* * *

Tim had seriously underestimated both Jason’s anger issues and the menace that was a drunk Damian Wayne. Only one of the two made his blood boil though. He was surprised by his own reaction when Damian nearly fell onto him. It should have pissed him off beyond reason, although, to be fair, they had overcome most of their differences.

“How many have you had?” Tim ground out, trying to steady Damian with a hand on his arm without making it too obvious, in case Bruce was looking. Ever since that club debacle, Bruce watched him like a hawk, probably because he had broken his word and had snuck into the club anyway. Tim still didn’t like recalling that particular night. He had been about to hit Damian square in the face if not for Jason’s hovering.

And to think, Damian had had the nerve to follow him to Kon’s to demand he’d make it back home on Bruce’ orders when Bruce hadn’t even known any of it, had been the cherry on the proverbial cake. Of course, Damian had apologised after, telling him that he hadn’t meant it like that. And Tim had been inclined to believe him.

Although, God knew why.

Since then, Bruce had kept a tight leash on his son, forbidding him from drinking even at events such as this. Tim almost pitied the guy.

 _Almost_.

There was, however, no reason for pity tonight, seeing as Damian was well on his way to being drunk as fuck. Tim also realised, Damian hadn’t answered his question. He pushed him back a little, shocked to see him stumble.

“Tell me how many you’ve had,” Tim hissed, grabbing Damian by the lapels to right him again.

“Four-ish?” It shouldn’t be adorable. It really shouldn't be. That adjective, Tim knew, he should never apply to Damian. But he had. And he didn’t want to take it back when Damian attempted to scrunch up his face in a more serious expression.

“That’s four too many, you know that?” For a moment, Damian seemed caught up between nodding and shaking his head, deciding on a weird half-nod before he went back to scowling.

“Why’ve you been drinking, babybrat? Hm?” But Damian shrugged him off, standing on his own suddenly. Tim was briefly confused before he saw Dick head in their direction.

“Oh…” he muttered, keenly aware that only Damian would hear him, “so that’s how it is. Don’t want big brother to see you drunk…”

The face on Damian was worth every goddamn minute Tim had been awake today. He likely didn’t know which claim he wanted to protest against first.

“Have you seen him?” Tim instantly stood straight when he heard the aggravation in Dick’s voice.

“Todd?” Damian asked and Tim had to give it to him. There was no trace of alcohol in his demeanour, not a single slur in his question. He felt a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth, hoping Damian would see it. 

“He’s been gone for half an hour. I talked to those ladies over there and then he just disappeared on me, claiming to get me another drink but then he didn’t show up.”

That sounded like Jason and, simultaneously, not good at all.

“You didn’t tell B,” Tim said more than asked. Dick nodded, worrying his lip between his teeth. He looked guilty, uncomfortable and Tim didn’t blame him. Jason was angry at best and a loose cannon at worst.

“Can you cover for me?” Dick pleaded with him, so obviously distraught, it pained Tim to look.

“Sure.” Dick seemed relieved if a bit surprised. Tim wondered if he had thought, Tim would deny him. Like that was even an option. How could he have said anything but yes to Dick's request? 

“Thanks Timmy, I owe you one.” With that, he swirled around, almost running into the opposite direction. Tim would bet his coffee machine, Dick was making his way downstairs into the cave.The surveillance would give him a lead on where Jason had disappeared to. Tim only prayed, Jason hadn’t lost it completely. If he got felt hurt, he tended to lash out.

He turned to Damian still swaying slightly by his side “You should go to bed.”

“It is none of your business when I retire.” Aw, was he pouting? The great bloodson Damian Wayne, was pouting. It was one hell of a sight. And still on this side of adorable. 

“Oh congratulations, how much did it take for you to articulate yourself correctly?” His voice was taunting, but not harsh. He just couldn't help himself when an opportunity to tease Damian presented itself. This had to be used, at least so that Tim had some sort of amusement in the midst of idiots surrounding them. 

Damian didn’t answer, simply waving at Tim like he was being an idiot.

“You also should really learn how to hold your liquor.”

Now, that made Damian scowl. “I am perfectly able to hold my liquor, Drake.” Tim laughed at the slight slur, pleased to see that Damian could be shit at something at least. Not as perfect as he always pretended to be. Not as unaffected either. 

“Are you? Then why are you swaying on the spot?”

“I am not-” he started but Tim didn’t let him finish. He pushed lightly against Damian’s chest, instantly sending him off balance. Damian grabbed for his shoulder, if on instinct or because he was closer than the wall, Tim didn’t know.

“Not what?” he smirked with his eyebrow raised, delighted by the slight flush on Damian’s cheeks.

“You are being-” Once again, he didn’t finish his sentence, eyes flickering back and forth between the grip he had on Tim and his face.

“Hm? Tell me, what am I being?”

“Ob-obnoxious.” Ah and if it hadn’t been for the stutter, Tim would have believed him to be utterly sober.

“As far as I can see, you’re the obnoxious one here,” he let his grin take on that particular arrogant note, he knew drove Damian up the walls. And Damian instantly responded, just like Tim knew he would.

“I am nothing of that sort, Drake.” Oh, he was at his best when he was snippy. Deep down, Tim had to admit, he liked riling up the brat. Always so quick to snap back. He appreciated someone who wasn’t scared of him, wasn’t fooled by his patented Timothy-Drake-Wayne-smile. It still made his cheeks hurt whenever he had to attend a gala like this. Too much teeth, he supposed. 

“I will head to bed,” Damian surprised him by saying, probably because even he couldn’t deny the way his eyes fluttered close anymore.

“Very mature,” Tim nodded in his direction, like he approved. Damian rolled his eyes but wished him a good night anyway. When he watched him retreat, Tim noticed how tall Damian had become. He undeniably had Bruce’ built. When he passed a group of girls, they all turned their heads. A flash of something rushed through him. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but something responded inside of him while his eyes trailed down Damian’s back.

That suit did fit rather snugly, didn’t it?

Maybe it was time for him to get a new one.

Just then, he did a double take, realising exactly what had crossed his mind when Damian had walked away like that. It dawned on him that nothing of their exchange had been innocent or appropriate. He wondered, when they had become like that.

_Because holy mother of God._

He had just checked out Damian.

 _Damian_.

The world was truly coming to an end.

Or he needed to get laid asap.

Either way, Tim was screwed.

* * *

The roof looked sturdy, but he knew to tread lightly. There would have been no need for his attempt at a break-in if he weren’t incredibly late. Damian would not have been late if not for that infuriating man that was Timothy Drake.

Could that idiot not take care of himself for one night?

Silently fuming, Damian opened one of the vents, climbing in like he had done so many times while training with Richard. Of course, Drake would find a way to get into trouble even in his own apartment. And while Damian was fully aware that the behaviour he was currently indulging in, could have been labelled as stalking. He did not care, however, seeing as it was all for a purpose. You see, he simply knew Drake would refuse to sleep unless someone made him.

Father had been worried sick for him for a week before Drake had collapsed at breakfast. And now, he was being unreasonable again. Richard and Todd both had safehouses across the city and Drake was currently residing at Todd’s. And he was staying up late when he should be sleeping and resting. Not that Damian cared. Not at all.

It stood to reason though, why he was currently sneaking through the vents, making as little sound as possible. He had once before tried to sneak in – as it had been – after that club incident. He still regretted how that had turned out.

“If you’ll come down?” his father’s voice startled him so badly, he lost his footing and fell down the shaft, tumbling to the ground before his father’s feet.

“How-”

Damian wasn’t entirely sure but his father did not look disappointed.

“Jason used this when he was 15.”

“Damn it, Todd!” He knew why he had thought Todd to be an incompetent idiot. On the other hand, he had to admit, Todd had his advantages. Especially, when they teamed up against Drake. That had been a good night. To see Drake utterly bested by someone like Todd was an image Damian had burned into his mind. That he had watched Drake take off his suit and shower was not of interest. At least, that was what he told himself. 

“Not his fault,” father joked, rather uncharacteristically.

“No. I should have used the tunnels.”

“Jason Todd, age 16.” Did this mean, he had no chance whatsoever? He did not like the idea.

“Did he ever manage it? To enter without being noticed?” he asked between clenched teeth.

“Yes.” Damian couldn’t help but perk up at that. If Todd had managed, surely, he could to. However, his father’s next sentence squashed his enthusiasm under the figurative boot. 

“Alfred caught him on the stairs.”

“I should seize to try then?” The case was quite clear and – as he would like to reiterate – he was not a fool.

“Oh no, you can try,” father leaned in conspiringly, “let me know if you succeed.”

“I… do not understand…”

“What? You think _I_ ever managed to make it past Alfred?” With that, and with a final wink over his shoulder, Bruce turned around and walked out, leaving Damian somewhere between shocked and confused.

And maybe a little proud. 

* * *

The first sign something didn’t quite sit right in Gotham’s streets was not the news. Despite what people might think, it took some time before something hit the news and Tim had stumbled upon it before anyone else. Thus, the situation at hand, namely that Tim’s favourite coffee shop had closed without a change of business hours. He had been suitably annoyed, before he smelled it.

Rotting corpse.

That smell was something he couldn’t erase from his memory even if he tried. One became familiar with it, in their line of work. Instead of wandering around the building like an idiot, he walked to the backdoor to find it unlocked. That in itself should have been strange in any City that wasn't Gotham. And while fairly normal for Gotham's standards, Tim still decided to take a look. 

The inside seemed normal enough but the lingering smell only increased the closer he got to the counter. He wished, he had left that one for the GCPD to find because the woman laying on top of it was – well – barely recognisable. Her chest had been carved up, strange symbols decorating her arms and face. Tim remembered some of them from a theological book, but others were entirely foreign. A black rose sealed her mouth.

On first glance, Tim could plainly see she was missing the liver and a finger. An odd combination but nothing unusual so far. He put on his gloves, careful not to disrupt anything and lifted her wrists. Both had been tied down with some cable wire if he wasn’t wrong.

Circling the counter, Tim fished out his phone from his pocket, dialling Bruce’ number without looking. He picked up after the first ring.

“I need you at the coffee shop,” just when he was about to hang up, he noticed a sheet of paper clamped into the woman’s side. He extracted it carefully, like he would a tooth, before folding it out. It was quite hard to read with all the blood that had soaked through it but what he could make out had his thoughts whirl in an instant.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing and barked into the phone “Make it quick!”

* * *

Leaning over the table, Tim’s stomach still hadn’t settled. He hated serial killers with a passion but there was one good thing about them. They always had a pattern. One just had to find it.

“Anything yet, Timmy?” Kon winked at him like they weren’t in a dire situation and currently getting nowhere. It agitated him.

“No,” he snapped “But if you have something to share, feel free to do so.” Kon held up his hands in surrender, stepping back to let Tim pass. He knew, Kon was just being Kon and that he shouldn’t snap at him like that when he was there to help, but he was so damn tired. People getting killed like that meant a lot of overtime and he barley managed the load of work he had piled on his desk without a new maniac on the loose. 

“Focus!” Bruce bit out, analysing the surveillance footage of the cameras surrounding the coffee shop. Tim could tell, he was reaching the end of his patience. 

“You’re sure they are roman?” Jason asked where he was perched on a stool, going over some old books. If Tim didn’t know better, he would think, Jason enjoyed having to go through them. Must be the nerd in him, Tim supposed.

“Guys?” Dick suddenly spoke up, “I think we have a problem.”

“You don’t say…” Tim mumbled but walked over to see what he had found anyway. Dick held up the sheet, like it held all the answers. As far as Tim could see, it didn't. 

“If you’re right and this is his starting point,” he pointed at the rose in the upper left corner, “then he’ll go for the dahlia next. Which means, we have twenty hours left to act.”

“What makes you say that?” Tim felt like they were on the verge of a solution, like it dangled right in front of them, just out of reach. 

“Because, I called the GCPD," he said, like it was obvious, "Parker said, there was a body in the morgue with strange symbols carved into his chest, finger missing and the lungs ripped out. Mouth sealed with a black tulip.”

“So, you figured out where he’s moving?” Jason was the first to pat Dick on the shoulder, “great job, Dickhead.”

Tim rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed by their banter-flirting. He dearly hoped, he didn't take after one of them. Their emotional bullshit, dysfunctional fights and heart eyes were nothing, he needed to be engaging in. Especially, with how he had caught himself eyeing Damian all night. 

“They remind me of us, don’t you think?” Kon stage-whispered into his ear, a teasing smile on his face that told Tim, he was joking. Unfortunately, nobody had told Damian that. Because the second, Kon had said it, Damian swirled around in his chair.

“How about you keep your opinions to yourself, Kent?” Oh, Tim had heard that tone before. This was about to escalate. And judging by the expression on Jason’s face and the way Dick had his brow raised, he wasn't the only one, who knew. They all saw the ticking time bomb that was one angry Damian Wayne. 

“Mind if I have a word with you?” he addressed Damian rather formally, praying it would make him calm down a little.At first, Damian seemed hesitant, then he huffed and sauntered out of the room, leaving Tim to follow. Tim caught up with him in the kitchen, watching him pace up and down restlessly.

“You need to calm down,” he said upon entering, despite knowing better. Damian wouldn't calm down. In fact, Tim didn't know if Damian had ever been calm in his life. In his head, Tim settled on less-agitated as the goal for this conversation. 

“What I need, Drake, is for your clone to keep his comments to himself. This is not to be taken lightly and-”

But Tim shushed him before he could continue.“I’m serious. We need you on full capacity. So, _you_ need to calm yourself.”

“I am perfectly calm.” Tim snorted. This was the equivalent of Jason saying, he wasn't angry while fuming like a goddamn train. 

“No," he said, voice sharp "You’re agitated. And you’re putting it all on Kon for no reason.”

“That is not true," Damian was quick to snap back, baring his teeth. He looked so angry, Tim almost backed away. 

“I don’t want a repeat performance of last time, Dami, okay? I really can’t listen to this again so, please, okay? Don’t go there.” He hated having to plead with him. Last time had hurt him more than he liked to admit. Hearing Damian spout so much bullshit had been hard for him. 

“Go there? I am not going anywhere! I was merely saying-”

“I know what you were saying!” Tim snapped, losing patience quickly, “I heard you the first time!”

“I am saying that I have no patience for your flirting when there is a bigger issue!”

“I'm not-" he realised, he was about to defend himself again when there was really no need and tried to redirect the conversation, "You know what? If you really wanna do this, go ahead! But I won’t listen to this crap a second time! You know-” he heaved a sigh, forcing himself to calm down.

“You have no idea how much that hurt, Dami.”

Damian didn’t speak for a long time, eyes glued to the floor. Tim was about to leave, thinking it futile to argue with someone who refused understand what he had done. Or what his traditional values were still doing.

Huffing, Tim turned on his heel. While making it to the door, he prayed for Damian to say something. He didn't like leaving things like that but, unless Damian said something, he gave Tim no choice but to separate from the situation. Or this would end rather badly, like it had last time. Then, when his hand reached the handle, he heard it. The barest whisper of a voice reached his ears. And the words stole the breath right out of his lungs.

“I was hurt too, Drake.”

“What?” He didn’t want to sound as incredulous as he did but he couldn’t help himself. Every word he had said was so unlike Damian, it almost scared Tim.

“Do you think, your comments did not mean anything? That I would not hear them?” Damian hissed, more and more agitated, the longer he went on.

“Or did you simply not care?”

“What are you talking about?”

“So, you did _not_ care,” Damian’s shoulders drew up in a move Tim instantly connected to protective instinct. He had seen Jason do the same thing over and over again whenever Dick was in the room for about two years before they had gotten their shit together. 

“I do care! But I have no idea what you’re talking about!” The pause which followed was long enough for Tim to believe, Damian wouldn’t ever answer. But when he did, it sounded too pained to actually be coming from him.

“You said I had not changed,” he said, softly like the words physically hurt him. Sharp pain shot through Tim when he remembered. The full impact of his words, of how Damian must have heard them, made him want to barf. That hadn't been his intention. Sure, he had wanted to hurt Damian like he had hurt Tim, but not like this. 

“I didn’t mean-” But Damian didn't let him speak. He jerked his head, face screwed up in an expression, Tim categorised as pained. It was hard to keep eye contact, hard to look at him, knowing Tim had put that expression there. 

“Yes. You did mean it. I do not fault you for it,” he hesitated, sounding hurt but not angry, “but I would appreciate…”

Tim waited for him to finish the sentence but when he didn’t, Tim stepped forward.

“Tell me,” he said, “what would you appreciate?”

Damian crossed his arms to cover his chest, looking like he prepared for battle. His shoulders had climbed up to his ears and he wasn’t meeting Tim’s gaze. He shook his head sharply, walking towards the hallway. Before he exited, he turned back, looking over his shoulder.

“If you could refrain from always thinking the worst of me…”

* * *

As it turned out, Dick had not only found out who the next victim would be but also that the sheet had been a warning, a challenge even. Apparently, as far as Tim could gather, the killer wanted them to race him to his next victim. Tim had managed to narrow it down to possible groups of victims.

The first two had both been upper-class members, not quite at the top, young, between twenty and twenty-five with blond hair. According to Bruce, that still didn’t give them much to operate with but it was a start. Only later did Tim realise, the killer had left them far more than simply his type.

“See this?” he pointed at the sheet for what felt like the thousandth time, “this is a map.”

“Of?” Bruce asked, sounding sceptical.

“Gotham.”

“How?”

“Well, Dick figured out his last victim, we have the current one. So, by chance of probability, the next is the dahlia. But get this. Both victims were found in the near vicinity of a flower shop. Which means, if we find a shop that sells the black dahlia, we can narrow it down further.”

“How much time do we have left?” Jason asked, cracking his knuckles. They had figured out, twenty hours separated their victims. If they were correct, they still had time left to solve this before they had another body on their hands. 

“Three hours.”

“Great.” Tim shared the sentiment but he couldn’t do anything to change that. So, he refused to let it distract him further.

“We have to split up,” Dick said from the far end of the room. He didn’t look convinced. Not that it mattered. They didn’t have time.

“Split up?” Oh boy. Tim hadn't heard that tone for a while now. Jason looked furious in his seat. And Tim instantly knew, this was about to derail fast. Jason was on his feet, eyes narrowed. Tim felt like he had missed something.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, okay?” Dick shrugged it off, completely missing the way Jason rolled his shoulders, bared his teeth. 

“Dick, I think-” Or, Tim gave it a second thought, he deliberately ignored it. 

“No!" Jason exploded "Let him go on thinking this is about the mission! It’s not like he cares either way!” Which cemented it in Tim's head that this was, in fact, not about the mission. How could it be? They split up all the time and it was the only logical thing to do now. It would take a massive idiot not to see that Jason was referring to something else entirely. 

“If this is about the party again-”

“I don’t give a fuck about that damn party!” Now that was a bold-faced lie if Tim had ever heard one. 

“Could have fooled me,” Dick mumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“What did you say?” Jason had gotten quiet. Tim prepared himself for the inevitable. Quiet Jason was so much more dangerous than loud Jason. But Dick didn't seem to realise, or he simply didn't care because he continued like Jason's demeanor hadn't changed drastically all of a sudden. 

“I said: you could have fooled me! Because you sure as hell behaved like an absolute idiot the entire time. But, of course! You don’t give a damn! You don’t give a damn about anything or anyone!” It occurred to Tim that Dick, too, had some unresolved issues with Jason's behaviour. They really needed to talk about this. Without yelling. But, apparently, neither was interested 

“That’s rich coming from you!” Jason snapped back. Tim saw, he was rearing for a fight but didn’t feel like it was his place to step between them.

“I will not have you two fight on the mission,” Bruce suddenly interjected, pushing softly into Jason’s side. Tim was silently grateful.

“Separate groups. Jay, you're with Damian. Tim, you go with Dick.” It wasn’t new, those pairings, but still unusual. Tim knew, he could trust Dick with his life, but he preferred Jason’s fighting style and even Damian’s to this. Damian had been his partner for so long, they fought as one. And Jason was more compatible with Dick, had always been. Either way, he saw, why Bruce had taken the precautious measure.

“Come on,” he gestured for Dick to follow. Dick threw Jason one last glance, still seething, before he followed Tim outside. It bothered Tim that he they hadn’t said goodbye, leaving on bad terms, but he couldn’t very well lecture Dick now, could he?

* * *

Something had to have gone horribly wrong. It should have been easy, so painfully easy, to track down a flower shop. But somewhere along the lines, Damian and Jason had run into trouble. They made it to the cave in record time after Damian had called. He had sounded more frantic than Tim had ever heard him.

The second they entered the cave, Damian blocked their way, eyes wide, face flushed.

“He is-” his voice caught on some unknown emotion and Tim’s stomach instantly dropped. He saw realisation on Dick’s face and then everything went into overdrive. Dick stormed past Damian, running towards the medical room.

“Jay?” Tim never wanted to hear Dick say Jason’s name like that again. _Never_. The pure desperation, the dread, it made him want to scream. And when Dick’s eyes fell on Jason, he broke down.

“Acid,” Damian croaked out, “they threw acid at him.”

“They?” Tim asked, mouth dry. Damian nodded, a sharp little movement.

“There were two. A man and a woman. I did not- I was too slow…” he trailed off, at war with himself. Tim saw the guilt consuming him and didn’t know how to make it better.

“Jay- Jay look at me!” But Jason wasn’t conscious. Dick sobbed, holding onto himself, face tears streaked. He sank to his knees by his side, not daring to reach out, not moving away either.Alfred was tending to a wound in his shoulder but his arm.

God, his arm was messed up.

Tim could see the remains of his suit melting into his skin. He had the bizarre desire to call Bruce but refrained. He didn't want to be the one to deliver the message. Not when it was Jason. This was a worst-case scenario. And it shouldn't have been Jason. Not again. They all knew, neither Bruce nor Dick could take that. 

“Jason, _please_!” Dick’s anguished scream was gut-wrenching. But Jason didn't hear him. He looked dead on that table, too pale, too still. Tim turned away, eyes finding Damian's. 

"I could not-" Damian whispered, like he could barely bring himself to talk "I should have been better." Tim's chest stung with the way Damian said it. Self-conscious, guilty, resigned. Like it was his fault, like he could have done something when it was clear, he couldn't have. 

“Please, talk to me!" Dick sobbed and Tim could barely take it, "Open your eyes! Come on!”

No movement. Tim exchanged a glance with Alfred, almost stopped breathing at the subtle shake of his head.

“Come on…” Dick repeated it so many times, it became a litany in Tim’s head. He would never forget the utter heartbreak in Dick’s voice.

“I need you.”

And then, like he needed to say it, like it could make Jason wake up, Dick whispered

“I _love_ you. Please…”

* * *

“I might have an idea…” Damian said and he sounded like he’d rather be anywhere else. But Jason was still bleeding heavily, his hand completely torn apart to the point where it wasn’t even recognisable as a hand any longer. The damage extended to his arm but the skin there was only burnt, not completely gone.

Tim could barely look at him without wanting to vomit.

Jason had woken up after a day and a half. Bruce had handed over his entire knowledge to Clark and his family, trusting them to help. He hadn’t taken well to Jason being out of commission. When Jason had finally opened his eyes, he had taken one look at Dick and had instantly known.

“How bad is it?” he had asked, sounding resigned already. Tim had wanted to turn away. Nobody had answered him and so he had turned to look at his arm. The second he had realised, his arm would forever be useless, he had closed up. He had refused to talk to anyone ever since.

“What’s your idea, Dami?” Dick spoke with a voice made of gravel, eyes never leaving Jason.

Tim felt a change go through them, when Damian looked up. His face was void of any emotion, like a blank canvas. It bore and odd resemblance to a puppet, just waiting for its master’s call.

Tim didn’t like it one bit. It reminded him of the way Damian had been as a child. Emotionless.

“Damian,” Bruce said, sounding strained. Tim could tell how much stress Jason’s condition put on Bruce. He couldn’t lose any of his Robins, but Jason was special. Things hit too close to home for him whenever he got hurt.

Damian turned away, staring at his hands before fleetingly glancing at Jason. His jaw worked like he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. But when he lifted his head, Tim saw determination etched into every line.

Lastly, Damian looked at Tim and Tim could have sworn he saw his eyes narrow just a bit before he said

_“The pit…”_


	2. Touch me

> _Trouble never looked so goddamn fine._

The silence which followed Damian’s suggestion would have been deafening but Tim felt that adjective didn’t do the situation justice. Unconsciously, he turned towards Jason and what he saw, chilled him to the bone. He had known Jason for quite some time now and had seen him in all kinds of states, ranging from pissed off to lovey-dovey. What he had never seen, was the look of blatant, utter fear on Jason’s face. Not even when they had gone up against the Joker.

There had been trauma, anger even, but not this. His eyes, they flared a sickening green, his skin had the colour of bones.

But he wasn’t the only one looking like that. Bruce, Tim noticed, had lost all colour too. He stared at Jason and Jason stared back at him like they were engaged in a silent conversation. And suddenly, Tim understood. That one word had thrown both of them back to that night. Memories passed between them, shadows of what had happened that fateful night. Tim couldn’t imagine the war raging inside Jason’s head. And Bruce – Bruce looked like he was about to be sick. They all knew, how Bruce had buried the memory of Jason’s death so that it would never see the light of day.

Now, it was being broadcasted for everyone to see. 

“No,” Jason finally said, but his voice sounded wrong, too rough to be normal. He shifted in his bed, eyes flittering towards the door. Dick apparently realised the idea forming in Jason’s head, that he planned on making a run for the door and stepped forward. 

“Jason-” he began but Jason held up his left hand to stop him.

“No,” he repeated, more determined this time, “I won’t do it.”

“Jason.” Why Bruce thought, saying his name would change a thing, Tim didn’t know.

“How many times do you want to hear it? I will not-” once more, his voice broke and he glanced down.

“Listen,” he started anew, “it’s not worth it, alright? And even if you manage to get there… I can’t-” he cleared his throat, “I can’t do it.” 

The statement rang loudly through the room with all its implications. Tim couldn’t help but look at Dick, curious as to where he stood in all of this.

“So, you expect us to just give up?” Dick snapped, ire blazing in his eyes, “do you really think, I’ll stand by and watch you go on with a fucked-up arm if there is something that can be done?” 

“Dick-”

“No! You shut your mouth and listen! I’ve had enough of your self-deprecating bullshit!”

Tim could tell, just how much Dick was fuming inside, based on the amount of swear words he used.

“I get that you’re scared, okay? I _understand_! But your hand is _useless_ like this and you know it!” 

“You callin’ me useless, Dickhead?” Jason’s snarl had never been more pronounced. His eyes had narrowed and were a lot greener than Tim had ever seen them. Like beacons of poison in the half-lit room.

“I’m calling your _hand_ useless! Because it is! It is, and you know it!” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at Jason implying they had had more than one conversation about this already. Tim imagined both driving an equally hard bargain. 

“Dick…” Bruce tried to step in, probably having sensed the potential of disaster which simmered in the air. Meanwhile, Damian had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

“No!” Dick shrugged off the attempt, stalking closer until he was looming over Jason’s bed. Tim noticed him pulling himself upright until he stood tall.

“If you decide to stay here and wallow in self-pity instead of doing something about it, be my guest! But don’t think for one second, I’ll be here to watch you!” 

“What are you saying?” now Jason sounded small. Tim knew why. This was emotional manipulation at its finest. Dick wasn’t giving Jason a choice here. It was simple. Either Jason got his shit together or Dick would leave. Everyone in the room knew, the decision was made even before Jason could confirm it.

“Dick- I _can’t_ …” Tim heard the desperate fear resonating through him and felt a sting in his chest. He didn’t want to be present for this. Dick continued to look at Jason but suddenly, his brows evened out and he crumbled, sinking down into the chair beside the bed.

“I know, okay?” he whispered, “I know, it scares you. But you can’t live like this! I know you, Jay. You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t go on like this. You’d let yourself wither away and I can’t- I can’t lose you. Not if there’s a chance…”

“It’s the pit, Dickie…” Jason breathed, “you have no idea what it did to me the first time.”

“But it’s different now. _You’re_ different.” The sound that came out of Jason’s throat was so void of humour, so hateful, Tim almost recoiled, despite it not being directed at him.

“Are you sure ‘bout that?” he snarled, reminding all of them of what he had had to do to survive, “are you really, really sure, Dick?” He said it like he knew, Dick wasn’t, that he couldn’t be.

Because Jason _himself_ wasn’t sure and it showed. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Dick said with enough confidence for Tim to feel it strike a response in him. 

“What if you’re wrong?” That question shouldn’t have had an audience, Tim decided and turned away to give them privacy. He saw Bruce do the same and hoped, Damian would follow.

“I’m not,” he heard Dick say, “I’m _not_ wrong. And I’ll prove it to you, Jay.”

“You know what’s at risk, don’t you?” Jason asked, voice not more than a breath, “you know what it could do to me…”

“Yes,” Dick affirmed, “but I’ll be there to pull you back if that happens, okay? I promise, Jay. I’ll be there.”

“You can’t- Dick, you weren’t there the first time, you didn’t see-”

“What didn’t I see?” Tim couldn’t be sure Dick was ready for the answer. He knew, _he_ wouldn’t be.

“You didn’t see me at my worst. You didn’t see what I did to keep breathing for one more day-” the breath he took then was filled with regret, with so much pain, he must have been suffocating on it. 

“You saw the tip of the ice berg, Dickie, nothing more. But there were days-” another breath followed by a tremor of his lips, equally strained, “there were days, when I couldn’t remember what I had done, where I had been. Because it took over. It just- all I could see was green and then…” his eyes were vibrant, like the blue fought the green for dominance, like it had done that for a long time, “then there was nothing…”

“Jay-” but Jason didn’t look at anyone, his eyes glued to his hands. Tim recognised the way he stared at as horrified. Of what he had done. Of what he couldn’t remember. God, he felt sick.

“Jay, look at me?” the anger had completely dissipated from Dick’s demeanour. Only his gentle hands remained, reaching for Jason slowly enough to give him time to move away.

“I won’t let that happen,” Dick promised, voice rough, “I’ll pull you back. I will always pull you back from there, okay? I promise.”

“Dick-” Jason sounded beaten, resigned like the fight had gone out of him and had left only his trauma behind. Tim imagined, he must be so tired of this world and the pain he had to bear over and over again.

“ _Trust me_ ,” Dick said, hands clenching around Jason’s upper arm. They all held their breath, waiting for Jason’s reaction. The nod came slowly, a sharp movement of his head.

* * *

After Dick’s and Jason’s violent debate, Tim left the room, needing distance. He wasn’t good with all those emotions being passed between them. In the hallway, he leaned against the wall, breathing hard through his nose. On days like this, he felt like the world rested on his shoulders. Too many things went wrong lately and he didn’t know how to change their odds. Damian suddenly stomped past him, shoulders brought up to his ears.

The glimpse Tim managed to see of his face was worrisome, so he promptly stepped in his way.

“Are you-” he hesitated, not quite sure if it was his place to even ask. Damian stopped, turned to him then raised a brow expectantly, inclining his head as a sign for Tim to continue.

“Are you alright?” Tim finally settled on, after having mulled it over a few times in his mind.

“Of course. It was my idea.” Infuriating little brat, Tim thought but didn’t say. He should have known, Damian would make this more difficult than it had to be. 

“That doesn’t mean, you’re okay with it.” He was trying to express his concern here. Was it too much to ask, Damian meet him half-way?

“Todd needs help.” Apparently, yes, it was too much to ask. God, sometimes, Tim wanted to rattle Damian until he opened up. 

“Still doesn’t mean, you’re okay,” he tried again, hoping against all odds, Damian would just tell him how he really felt. 

“Why do you _care_ , Drake?” God, he sounded nasty when he snarled like that. Then again, he _was_ Bruce’ son. Tim shouldn’t be surprised. 

He decided to put the cards on the table “because he’s not the only one risking something by going there.”

“I am not at risk.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“Will you seize using such language?” Of all the things he could get riled up about, he chose Tim’s use of the English language. He barely refrained from rolling his eyes, only because he knew, it would make Damian even angrier. But the snide remark was out of his mouth before he could bite down on that too. 

“Why? Jason does it all the time.” 

“Drake-” a warning lay in his voice that Tim heeded. He didn’t want for this to be another futile discussion.

“Fine. I just wanted to know if you were alright, but if you say you are…” He turned to leave, deliberately waiting for Damian to take the bait. And of course, he did.

“If you must know…” he didn’t actually finish his sentence, but it was a start. He continued softly, like admitting some sort of weakness and Tim felt for him.

“It was the only option,” he said, “but…” the breath he took was too long, too shaky to be considered normal.

“But?” Tim gently urged.

“I did not consider going back there,” Damian whispered, eyes far, far away, someplace Tim couldn’t see.

“I never- I do not want to go back.”

“You don’t have to,” Tim was quick to jump in, “let B go with Jason instead.”

But Damian shook his head, “Neither father nor Richard.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are too worried. Distracted. I am not.”

“No? So, you don’t care that his hand is messed up? That there’s a killer duo we haven’t caught and you’re about the last person who should accompany Jason to that god-awful place.” Tim couldn’t help the hysteria sneaking into his voice. Something about the idea of Damian being in mortal danger pulled at his heart with an uncomfortable ache. Okay, maybe he knew exactly what that little something was but he didn’t plan on giving it a name just now. 

“I am the only one who can.” Grade A bullshit. There were about a billion other people capable of going. It didn’t have to be Damian. Why was he trying so hard?

To make his point, Tim said nonchalantly, “Not the only one.”

“You are not going.” Damian instantly spat, like he was neither surprised at Tim’s suggestion nor enthusiastic about. In Tim’s opinion, Damian must have given it some thought in advance. 

“Oho, and what are you going to do? Stop me?” Damian looked like he might as well and Tim squared his shoulders, drawing up to his full height, “I’d like to see you try.”

“I can take you.” Wasn’t that just adorable? 

“You really can’t, babybrat. Not for a long time.” While Tim was the smallest, he had also won a fight against every bat with the exception of Jason. He could live with that, seeing as Jason always fought dirty, even with Dick. Tim hadn’t stood a chance if he didn’t want to scoop down to that level. Damian, though? He could take him out with two well-calculated kicks and they both knew it.

A pause stretched between them, for a long time. It gave Tim a moment to think. While he wasn’t fond of the idea of Damian and Jason going off to find that pit water, he conceded that it was their best shot. Bruce and Dick were too disturbed for them to keep their heads straight and Tim didn’t have the faintest clue where to even start. That didn’t mean, he had to like any of it.

Especially, now that he knew, Damian didn’t want to go either. Although, there was something poking at his mind.

“Why propose the idea if you don’t want to go?”

Damian didn’t look at him, his eyes downcast. Tim would have said, he seemed embarrassed if that hadn’t been so out of character. Although, Damian had been blushing an awful lot the last few months. 

“It seemed the right thing to do,” he said, making it sound dirty almost. 

“Since when do you care?”

That got a reaction out of him. “He is my family too, Drake!”

“I didn’t know you thought of us like that…” Not really, since Damian hadn’t actually voiced his feelings on the matter. It was incredibly soothing to hear it. 

“You do not seem to know a lot of things,” Damian mumbled. Tim suspected, he wasn’t even meant to have heard it. Since he had, his curiosity was piqued.

“Like?”

“What?” If that wasn’t a deflection, Tim didn’t know what was. 

“What things don’t I know, Dami?” he tried again, paying close attention to Damian’s reactions.

“It is not of import,” was all he got as an answer before Damian turned heel and walked out. To Tim, it looked almost like he was running away.

But then again maybe Tim was projecting.

* * *

They would not be long. At least, if Damian managed to get his way. He would have rather remained at home but the state of Todd’s hand broke no argument. Long ago, he had decided that he would not sit by and watch a member of his family walk into certain doom if he could take action. And he could. That he didn’t particularly like the plan was of no consequence. He had told Drake precisely that and had watched his brow draw in worry.

Or had it been fury? Damian hadn’t been able to tell.

They set to leave in the morning, with two bags each. Damian didn’t feel safe with Todd in this state but he supposed, an injured Todd was still better than most people. He trusted Todd. To a certain extent at least. He felt ashamed, almost, not being able to trust anyone beside himself. It had been indoctrinated into his very DNA, to rely on no one but himself. Still, Todd belonged to his inner circle, had worked hard, in fact to be admitted to it.

While Damian didn’t rely on him, he would leave his back unguarded in a fight, without worrying for Todd to stab him into it. The tables were turned on them in a sense, seeing as Todd could put all of the bats, including his father, onto their backs in training.

Now, Todd was the vulnerable one and had to rely on Damian to accompany him safely. Damian didn’t want to imagine Richard’s face should Todd not return. That was sight, he never wanted to see.

“You look like you’d rather be elsewhere, brat,” Todd spoke up, sounding entirely unaffected by their travelling alongside each other.

“My apologies,” Damian snarled between clenched teeth while trying to pick a lock, “of course, this mission is highly entertaining to me seeing as the both of us are about as welcomed to that water as father would be in a cell in Arkham.”

“Why’d you come with then? Huh? Could’a saved us both the trouble and stayed well at home.”

“I suppose you prefer your arm dangling uselessly by your side while you launch on the couch letting Richard feed you popcorn.”

“No need to get snippy with me,” Todd’s voice remained calm, no trace of the venom Damian knew was lurking. He looked over his shoulder and saw Todd shift his stance. Nervous, his brain suggested.

“Sorry,” he said, aiming for genuine.

“It’s fine,” Todd shrugged it off, “you about done with that lock?” His tone didn’t hold any malice and Damian took the inquire for what it was. The lock clicked open under his expert hands and they walked inside.

“Thought, they’d protect it better,” Todd whispered, crouching down beside Damian to examine the trapdoor. Damian didn’t answer, fully concentrated on opening that retched thing. He also didn’t find it in himself to discourage Todd. The last time he had looked, some of the pit water was being stored here, although with much more security measures taken.

His suspicion that it had since been removed fell to pieces once the trapdoor snapped open and a bullet grazed his arm.

Todd cursed, pulled him down and out of reach. Unfortunately, he lost balance and with only one working arm collided hard with the floor. Blood splattered where a bullet pierced through Todd’s leg.

Damian barely managed to turn in time to see him fall to his knees.

* * *

The tablet in Tim’s hand was hot enough to brew coffee on. Which Tim would have actually found delightful. Nevertheless, he decided to treat it as a sign to put it down and turned towards the computer. His mind wasn’t fully there, though, a large part being occupied with Damian’s and Jason’s mission.

A sudden ringing on the front door and Tim startled badly enough to hit his elbow at his screen. Cursing loudly, he made it to the door, ripping it open with a murderous expression. It vanished once he saw who was standing there.

“I would ask how you’re doing but I don’t think, that’s necessary.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Bearing bad news,” Kon said, manner as apologetic as ever.

“The case?”

“Aren’t you a quick one?” Tim knew it was meant as a light-hearted stab to lighten his mood. Despite that, his patience snapped right in half.

“If you’re here to make stupid comments, you can turn right back around,” he snarled, much too agitated to think clearly.

“Calm down,” Kon held up his hands in defence and stepped inside, “Clark told me to give you a heads up.”

The realisation that Kon was just doing his job didn’t help Tim settle down but he did force himself to turn it down a notch.

“About what?” he asked, mind reeling because he didn’t know what he had missed now.

“We didn’t catch them.”

“Great.” And once more, the world fell on his shoulders. Dick was too worked up about Damian and Jason to care about anything else. Bruce kept to himself, furiously going at criminals left and right, so much so that Arkham was reaching its full quantity. 

“Clark got hold of the man but he got loose again and the woman didn’t even show,” Kon paused, eyes flittering between Tim’s, “we found the victim with the dahlia in his mouth ten minutes later.”

Anger bubbled inside Tim but he swallowed it down when he saw how stricken Kon looked. It wasn’t easy for either of them, running against the clock and losing every damn time. 

Somewhat calmly, he asked if Kon had brought over the evidence.

“Course I did. What do you take me for?” He sounded only mildly offended which almost made Tim smile.

“How’re you doing, Tim?” he asked once he handed over the folders he was carrying.

“Fine.”

“Sure you are,” Tim recognised his smile as an amused one, “any word about your precious brat?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, Timmy. I saw the way you looked at him,” a smirk took hold of his lips, “reminded me of the way you looked at me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Tim said, not ready to lie plainly when what Kon was saying was true. He did look at Damian differently nowadays. However, he did not think he had looked at Kon quite the same way. His – well – _infatuation_ with Damian was another thing entirely.

“And you’re not denying it,” Kon remarked, “he is your type after all.”

“Shut it!”

“Hit a nerve, have I?” he joked, patting Tim’s shoulder in a jovial manner, “anyway, tell me about it. Is he as stuck up when you get him into bed?”

For a moment, Tim was thoroughly tempted to aim a well-placed punch at Kon’s nose. He refrained for two reasons:

  1. He and Kon were friends.
  2. He would hurt his hand more than he would hurt Kon’s face.



“I don’t want to talk about it,” he settled on in quite a determined tone. 

“Why not? Is he that bad?”

“Kon!” Tim snapped, feeling a migraine coming, “I said, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Kon’s entire demeanour suddenly changed like he had realised how thin the ice was, he stood on.

“Okay, sorry. I didn’t know, it was like that.”

“I just-” Tim breathed, trying to explain the situation without going into too much detail, “I don’t want to think about it while he’s away.”

“Because you think, he might not make it back?”

Tim corrected him instantly, “because I worry.”

“I _am_ sorry,” Kon repeated, the expression on his face clearly stricken. 

“It’s fine,” he said and tried his best to believe it too.

* * *

It should have been a fairly short trip. Damian knew where they kept that damned water and it wasn’t far out of Gotham. A warehouse. Of course.

“Why aren’t they back by now?” Dick was pacing. He had taken to it the day after their supposed arrival. Tim had started to worry after the 48-hour mark. Bruce was out on patrol tonight but only because he hoped to hear something on the streets. Tim sat in his chair, twirling every few minutes, to imagine at least something was in motion.

He couldn’t _think_.

Another hour later and the door suddenly burst open, revealing two limping figures in the doorway.

“Jason!” Dick torpedoed forward, pulling Jason into his arms. Jason almost collapsed into him, clutching Dick’s shirt like a lifeline. Behind him, Damian moved past the pair, face hollowed out and skin pale.

Tim noticed at once, they were both bloody and exhausted. But _alive_. They were alive and Jason’s arm looked perfectly normal.

“How’re you doing, babybrat?” he asked, trying not to listen in on Dick’s frantic questions. Once Damian was illuminated by the light, Tim saw the whole damage that had been done to him. He barely refrained from cursing, only because he knew how much Damian disliked it. Just when he was about to ask if he could do something or worse, demand for Damian to sit his ass down and let Tim fuss over him, he heard Dick sob.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back! I thought, I had lost you!” Hysteria had taken hold of Dick and was not about to let him go any time soon.

“Ah you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Big Bird,” Tim saw the half-hearted attempt of a smile on Jason’s face and instantly relaxed. Jason was fine. Exhausted and apparently having been shot, but fine. They were going to be alright. Both of them. And if he wasn’t wrong, they had Damian to thank for it.

“You’re stuck with me now.” That was the final straw, apparently, because Dick, who had been fighting the tears for quite some time, lost it.

“I love you- _fuck_ \- I love you so much, little Wing. Don’t you dare do this to me again!” 

And that was his cue to leave. He pulled at Damian’s shirt on the way to the door, motioning with his head for Damian to follow.

“What!” the brat hissed at him once they were safely out of earshot.

“Leave them alone, will you?”

“I have no interest whatsoever in their…” he made a vague hand gesture which looked somewhat crudely, but didn’t actually say the words. Tim felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

Damian was a prude through and through and so utterly oblivious about it.

“Hm, no interest whatsoever?” 

“None.”

“Sure. That’s why you personally went there with him to get that damn pit water. All because you don’t give a damn.”

“Do not be obtuse, Drake.”

“Oh, _I’m_ being obtuse now…” Riling him up was still so goddamn easy, it shouldn’t be that much fun.

“Yes,” the brat huffed, shoulders up to his ears, probably to hide his blush. Couldn’t let anyone know, you were actually a nice human being with emotions, harbouring a big heart underneath all that arrogance. Tim smiled to himself. He could get used to this side of the prickly brat. 

“How are you?” he asked, mostly to give himself something to do and silence that voice in his head, insisting that he should kiss the brat.

“In need of medical attention, I believe,” Damian said. Tim whirled around to look at him and saw a smile peeking through at the corners of his lips. Huh. That certainly made him look handsome. Not that Tim wasn’t into the dark and brooding type but that smile? That smile could get Damian everywhere he wanted to go if he knew how to use it.

“Let me have a look at it,” Tim suggested, gesturing for Damian to follow him. And if he took a longer time than usual making sure, Damian was alright, and if he so happened to have his shirt off while Tim went at him, nobody had to be the wiser.

_Right?_

* * *

Thinking back, Tim had neither an idea how on earth it had come to this, nor what the hell was going on. Needing a file from Damian’s desk, he had walked into his room, his sole focus on finding the damn thing. Only on his way out did he stop, suddenly feeling like he had missed something essential.

Taking a few steps back, he bent over the desk, going through the sheets laying there. It wasn’t snooping, he would later defend himself, Damian hadn’t put any effort in hiding those paper sheets. Granted, he had probably not anticipated Tim just waltzing in there like he owned the place.

He couldn’t believe this, scrambling for another sheet just to make sure, his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“What are you doing in my room?” Damian sounded appropriately pissed and any other day, Tim would have barrelled out of there like one of Jason’s bullets. Today, however, the word had decided to turn upside down, leaving Tim with nothing to do but hold up the paper and shove it into Damian’s face.

“What is that?” he screeched, scandalised and confused and all over not feeling too well. That was a huge thing for him to miss and he couldn’t deal with everything that damn thing implied. 

“I do not know what you mean.”

“ _This_! All of this!” Tim sounded like a goddamn harpy, he knew, he did. He flailed his hand to encompass the entire ludicrousness that was Damian’s room.

“I do not-”

But Tim had had it. Despite knowing deep down, he shouldn’t, he ripped another one of the paper sheets off the wall, pushing it into Damian’s face so hard, he hit Damian straight on the nose.

“You saying that’s not me? You just randomly drew a guy in the shower with my exact proportions by chance?!” 

He hadn’t even realised, Damian had been looking at him. Let alone like that. And to see himself all over Damian’s wall, naked and wet and with too many accurate details was disturbing.

“Yes!” Damian hissed, pushing away Tim’s hand.

“You’re a bad fucking liar, Damian!” Because Tim got it now. His mind put together every instance it hadn’t been able to make sense of before, working a mile per minute. 

“I am not!” The pure outrage on his face would have been entertaining. Unfortunately, Tim wasn’t in the mood to be entertained. 

“Yes, you are! You can’t lie for shit! And that _is_ me, by the way! _Naked_ me!” 

“You are being-” Tim didn’t let him finish the sentence, not at all interested in another excuse.

“You drew me! Naked! And you’re damn well giving me an explanation!”

“This is ridiculous. Why would I waste my time drawing you in any way? Let alone naked?” Tim would have believed him. He would have. If not for the tiny little break in his voice when it caught on the word _naked_. And even so, Damian might have been putting up a good front of nonchalance, but his face was bright pink, giving him away. 

“You tell me,” Tim said through clenched teeth. He didn’t feel like letting Damian get away with this behaviour any longer.

“There is nothing to tell. You are being entirely unreasonable.”

“How on earth am I being unreasonable?!”

“Because, you do not _see_ , Drake! You refuse to see-”

“What? What’s there to see, hm? That you watch me naked in the showers?”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Damian bit back. 

“No? Could’ve sworn that was it! Because you keep beating around the bush!”

“I do nothing of that sort! You ambushed me in my own room, ripping my drawings from the wall!” 

“Because I’m on them! Naked!” Damian refused to answer, to even look at Tim where he was fuming. Tim couldn’t believe his nerve. That bastard, if he wanted to ridicule Tim for being slender, he should have just done so. Why would he go through all of that trouble to draw him, just to make fun of him afterwards? Why would he even draw him naked?

Tim had seen drawings of Dick, Bruce and even Jason on one or two occasions, in full combat mode with their suits on. But Damian had never drawn him. Or so Tim had thought. Evidently, a hell of a lot had escaped him. And he didn’t like that. There had to be some kind of purpose, some reason why Damian would suddenly turn to drawing him naked.

He stalked forward, noticing how Damian almost stepped back at his approach.

“Give me an explanation! If there even is one! You can tell me – go on!”

“I-”

“Yes? Did you want to say something? Some more lies perhaps?”

“NO!” Damian snapped, eyes blazing, “no.”

“Then what?” 

“I did not draw you naked.”

“No? Then who did you draw? Jason? Dick?” 

“No!” Now, he sounded affronted and Tim smiled to himself. He hadn’t shown that reaction when Tim had accused him of watching.

“Then who?” he had stopped shouting, sensing a change in the room.

“Hm, babybat?” he stepped closer, feeling suddenly taller than Damian despite their difference in height.

“Who is it you draw?”

Damian’s back hit the wall, letting himself be caged in by Tim for reasons Tim couldn’t understand. His eyes were downcast, his jaw set. Tim wasn’t having it. He rested his fingers under

Damian’s chin, lifting it until he looked at him. Tim noticed how large his pupils were, how Damian looked completely out of his depth. And yet, he let Tim touch him, seemed surprised by it himself.

“Tell me, Dami…” he let his voice drop just a bit, not quite sure why he thought it would work but still weirdly confident it would.

“I-” he cleared his throat, lashes fluttering, breath too short. Tim could feel it on his skin.

“You said, I didn’t see. But now I am,” he promised softly, relishing the way Damian’s shoulders twitched forward.

“I’m _looking_ , babybat.”

“Do not-” he cleared his throat, voice wavering “do not call me that.”

“Why not?” Tim asked, “it’s what you are, no?”

“No!”

“I thought you liked being Robin? The new boy wonder…” the smile had migrated from his lips to his voice. Damian was so adorably flustered. Always. 

“Jealous, Drake?”

“Not at all. The tights fit you way better than me. Besides…” he paused, leaning in far enough that their breaths mingled “I look better in all red anyway.”

Damian noticeably gulped, like he agreed, like he enjoyed having Tim take charge. And it clicked, suddenly, with immense force. What Dick and Jason had been saying, what Bruce had harrumphed about, what Steph was teasing him with.

“Holy shit,” he ground out, instantly stepping back, letting his hand drop like the skin contact had burned him.

“What-”

“You want me!”

Damian remained silent, eyes flickering towards the window as if he contemplated taking a dive out of it. Tim instantly blocked the view, suddenly brimming with the need to talk this out.

“You _want_ me, don’t you? That’s what this is about! That’s what you thought I didn’t see!” 

“You are talking nonsense.”

“I’m not though, am I?” he couldn’t quite keep the hysteric note out of his voice. And when Damian didn’t do anything but splutter, ears burning cherry red, another piece of the puzzle fell into place in his mind.

“You were– you were jealous! That’s why you showed up at that stupid club!”

“You are being ridiculous, Drake.” 

“Am I? Because I distinctly remember you throwing a major tantrum because you couldn’t come with us!” 

“That is of no consequence!”

“But it is!” he said, excited because this whole mess was starting to make sense.

“You were spewing all that crap about me fucking Kon-” the name gave him pause.

“Kon-” he repeated softly, realisation dawning, “you stalked me all the way back to Kon’s because you were jealous of him.” 

“For the last time, Drake. I do not get jealous!” Tim wondered, briefly, how he could ever have thought that Damian was disgusted by him liking boys. It was so obvious now, so perfectly clear.

“Yes, you do! You marched in there like the building was on fire and told me some bullshit lie about B wanting me home immediately! Well, guess what brat! I asked him and he had no idea why I was home early!” 

“That is not-” Oh, he would have entertained himself the entire evening by watching Damian stumble his way out of that lie, but he couldn’t. Not if he wanted this to go somewhere else than fighting tonight. And he did, damn him, he did. 

“Not what? Not true? Not what happened?” he snorted “Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot?”

Damian’s answer better not be _yes_ or Tim would rethink his attempts at doing them both a favour.

“You were fornicating with him all night while you were supposed to be on a mission!”

Bullshit. God, this was such a bullshit excuse and Damian knew it. 

“Dick and Jason had it under control!”

“You did not know that!”

“I didn’t need to! They’re both adults!”

“Regardless!”

“No!” Tim snapped “Cut the crap! You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that you followed me to the club and then to Kon’s because you were jealous of the people I hook up with! It had nothing to do with the mission or Dick and Jason! You were jealous! Just fucking admit it!” 

Damian stared at him, wide-eyed and with the blush now extending down what was visible of his neck. If that didn’t mean, Tim had hit the nail on the head then he didn’t know which way was up any longer. 

“Just admit it,” Tim repeated, this time more softly.

“I-” but he didn’t seem to find the courage to actually do so, shifting from one foot to the other while he looked down. Tim had the fleeting suspicion that Damian was severely out of his depth right now. It made something fragile in him shatter, seeing this obnoxiously confident boy so flustered.

“Dami…” he whispered, uncomfortably aware of their closeness, “look at me.” 

Damian’s eyes didn’t snap up. He worried his lip between his teeth, biting down so hard, it paled under his ministrations. Tim could barely take it and decided, he had to be brave for both of them.

“Please?” he coaxed and watched Damian shudder at that one word. Oh, so slowly, Damian’s eyes found his, that jade colour almost too bright against his flushed face.

“I like it,” Tim admitted against the tightness in his throat, reiterating “I like that you were jealous.”

He couldn’t quite tell if that revelation made Damian more comfortable or less so, but he powered on, suddenly nervous, wanting their conversation to go into either direction, so that he, at least had closure to that particular kind of longing.

“Because if you were jealous, that means-” he paused, having to swallow because his mouth was suddenly too dry, “it means, you like me…”

Once more, Damian started stuttering but nothing of substance came out. Tim sighed. Of course, this wouldn’t be easy. Damian likely didn’t know what to do with any of this. No wonder, having Bruce as a father. 

“Because I kinda-” he heaved another sigh, trying to supress the tremble in his voice, “I like _you_.”

That made Damian take in a sharp breath, mouth dropped open. Tim would have commented on how adorably confused he looked, but he couldn’t quite manage. Not with the hope blatantly visible in Damian’s eyes.

Neither of them moved for a long time. Tim didn’t really know why but he felt frozen with the way Damian was staring at him. Like he had wanted this to happen but had never thought it possible. It broke Tim’s heart a little. Finally, he managed to take another step forward, feeling the heat radiating from Damian’s body.

“Tell me no, Dami…” he whispered, leaning in. Damian remained where he was, eyes wide as saucers, tracing every movement Tim made. His hands were clutching his desk so hard that his knuckles turned white. Tim noticed with interest – and a flutter in his heart he hadn’t felt in a long time – that Damian didn’t move away. He gave Damian plenty of time to signal disinterest, relieved when he couldn’t detect one single negative reaction.

Only a few inches separated them. When it became clear that, while Damian didn’t push him away, he would also not meet him in the middle, Tim stood up on his toes to reach him.

One last time, he paused, watching Damian’s face for any sign he should back off now and when he didn’t see any, he closed the final distance between them. Damian’s lips were soft against his. Tim cupped his cheek, turning his head when Damian refused to do it himself. He felt more than heard Damian suck in a sharp breath, shuddering when Damian pressed hesitantly closer. Tim gently nudged his knees so that he could step in between them, relishing the way Damian gasped at their sudden closeness.

Tim’s hands slowly reached out until he could rest one on Damian’s thigh and the other around his neck, squeezing gently just to let Damian know, it was there. Damian’s mouth dropped open, allowing Tim’s tongue entrance.

This wasn’t Damian’s area of expertise, which was blatantly obvious after a few moments, but Tim didn’t mind. He guided Damian’s hands to his waist, their heat burning holes into his shirt.

The soft little sound erupting from Damian’s throat send sparks of electricity down Tim’s spine. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on Damian’s thigh. Damian jerked against him, an involuntary action seeing as he instantly moved away again.

“Don’t-” Tim breathed against his lips, surprised by the gravel in his voice, “don’t hold back on me, babybat.”

Some part of his brain realised, calling Damian babybat was quite unfair but he didn’t give a flying fuck with the way his legs fell open and his back arched against Tim in the lewdest body roll Tim had ever seen someone do. All that muscle, all that strength, faltering under his hands. Tim was so gone for him, it wasn’t even funny. His left hand roamed over the hard planes of Damian’s stomach, following the ridges of his abs until he hit the waistband of his pants.

He instantly travelled back up, painfully aware that Damian was as virginal as they came and that he couldn’t do this like he had with Kon.

Damian, though, seemed to have a different idea, grabbing Tim’s hand and shoving it under his shirt. Tim’s brain short circuited at the feeling of all that hot skin. He had to restrain himself from just taking everything he wanted, especially, when it was being offered so willingly. 

“What do you want?” He let his lips travel down Damian’s neck, sucking beneath his ear when he felt Damian twitch in an effort to keep still. Despite every instinct telling him to mark Damian up, let everyone see, Tim had touched him, he refrained.

With a smirk he was glad Damian couldn’t see, his teeth sank into Damian’s shoulder, having had an idea flash through his mind. Damian’s hands spasmed against his waist with enough strength for it to be bruising.

“Come on, Dami,” he tried again, “tell me what you want…” Tim felt like he was walking on thin ice here, not wanting to overstep and make Damian uncomfortable and yet, not ready to go all the way either, seeing as this was new to him as well. There were still days, he couldn’t handle Damian’s pig-headedness or his prickly demeanour. Throwing his heart at someone like Damian, who had never learned how to be careful with another’s trust, was scary.

“I-” Tim timed Damian’s attempt at an answer with a roll of his hips, causing Damian to gasp and tremble against hm. At least, Tim now had proof that he wasn’t the only one affected by all of this. He could feel how hard Damian was when he pressed close, providing some friction.

“I want…” but the second try ended – just like the first – in a moan which went straight to Tim’s cock.

“I want you,” Damian finally ground out, much to Tim’s surprise. He couldn’t help the smirk, leaning back so Damian would see. 

“Do you now?” he chuckled, letting his fingers trace irregular patterns over Damian’s thigh, itching close to the bulge in his jeans before dropping back down towards his knee. Oh, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew damn well, Damian wanted his hand juuust that inch higher, but he wasn’t about to give in unless he was sure, Damian wouldn’t bolt.

“Yes,” Damian hissed, sounding annoyed at having to articulate his desires.

“Anything specific you want?” Tim supposed it was the years of bratty behaviour that made this encounter so deliciously tempting. Having Damian ask for things, having him unsettled did something to Tim, he didn’t want to inspect too closely.

“I…” Damian refused to look at him, that blush now covering his entire face, “I do not know.” 

Tim was aware of that but he bet Damian had had some inkling, some fantasy he wanted to enact, seeing as he had drawn Tim naked in the shower. That alone belied his supposed innocence.

“Hm…” Tim murmured, “I don’t know if I believe that…” It was meant as a teasing comment, not something serious, but Damian seemed to take it to heart, shifting impossibly closer and grabbing Tim’s hand on his thigh. His grip was too tight for comfort, but Tim didn’t complain. Damian ducked his head then, nuzzling Tim’s neck and pulled his hand to where he wanted it.

“Like this?” Tim asked between harsh breaths, circling the ever so prominent bulge in Damian’s jeans. Applying just the barest hint of pleasure, Tim covered the front of the jeans. Damian gave a muffled grunt, jerking his hips forward. Taking the invitation for what it was, Tim reached for the zipper, slowly pulling it down. He let his fingers trace the outline of Damian’s cock over his boxers, finding his own trousers impossibly tight.

“Scoot forward,” Tim murmured against Damian’s lips, all the while grabbing his hips to do it for him. Damian made an adorable sound, similar to a squeak, which made Tim melt inside. He kissed down Damian’s neck again, suckling on the soft skin there. His hand closed, once more, around Damian’s erection, giving it an experimental pull. Damian sagged forward, scrambling for something to hold onto. Tim chuckled, putting his other hand on Damian’s shoulder to keep him steady.

“I wish to-” Damian stopped in the middle of the sentence, grunting when Tim twisted his wrist on an upstroke.

“Hm?” Tim mumbled, completely distracted by the way Damian felt against him, how he wanted to sink to his knees and suck him down. 

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Damian clumsily tried to open Tim’s trousers, much to Tim’s amusement. If it were any other situation, Tim would have teased Damian for being unable to complete a simple task as that. 

“Easy, babybat…” he muttered, pushing Damian’s hand away and doing it himself.

“Why- why do you call me that?” 

“Thought you might like it…” Damian blushed, not denying it. And Tim, suddenly, had trouble keeping his hips from rutting forward when Damian’s fingers found their destination. Because, goddamn, that felt good.

“You are-” Damian started before gulping, “you are shaved.”

For some reason, it sounded like a question. It made Tim look up at him, a curious pull in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised that Damian hadn’t shaved but couldn’t quite get behind why Damian would ask him that.

“Yeah,” he shrugged as way of an answer “I like the way it feels.”

If he read Damian’s facial expression correctly, it had never occurred to him that shaving _down there_ was an option. Tim would have laughed if the image of Damian, naked and smooth hadn’t sucker-punched him right in the gut. He instantly forced his mind back to the matter at hand, doubling his pace to make Damian moan again. That sound was something he would kill to hear.

Damian, in turn, quickened his hand as well around Tim’s dick, almost expertly. So much so that Tim wondered if Damian regularly indulged himself, and that image shouldn’t be hot but fuck, it was. Igniting a new fire in him, Tim found Damian’s abs clenching, sweat making his hand slip deliciously.

“Wanna see you come, Dami,” he whispered, deliberately pulling out all the stops. Each reaction, he catalogued carefully. He wanted Damian to lose his mind. Every time, he bit his lips, every sigh, every moan and each full-body shudder was being noted. One particularly vicious bite to his shoulder had Damian tense. His body went rigid for a second before he breathed out through his nose.

“Come on,” Tim encouraged, searching Damian’s lips with his. His left hand joined his right, fondling Damian’s balls. It was the only reason, he saw the orgasm coming a split second before he managed to push Damian’s shirt out of the way to avoid the mess.

“T-” Damian gasped. Tim couldn’t believe he was about to make this annoying “tt-tt” sound in a situation like this, when it occurred to him that Damian had likely been about to say his name.

The realisation burned like fire on his skin, his cock hurt with how hard it was pulsing in Damian’s hand. In a last-ditch effort to help Damian topple over, he closed his teeth around his neck, twisting his hand and pressing against Damian’s perineum. Damian’s breath hitched, head thrown back and his eyes fluttered close. Tim saw him bite his lip so hard, it burst and blood trailed over his chin. It shouldn’t have looked as erotic as it did, but when Tim felt Damian’s hand clench tightly around his cock, he was done.

The orgasm rushed through him with the force of a tidal wave, catching him by surprise.

He came to, breathing too fast and watching Damian stare at him in an odd combination of satisfaction and flat-out panic. Damian let go of him, almost shoving past him with his jeans still undone.

“Dami-” Tim tried, sensing this was about to go south real fast. But Damian wouldn’t have it. He nearly ran out of the door, shoulder colliding with the frame. Even Tim winced upon the impact, practically seeing the bruise bloom before his eyes. He found himself unable to move, staring at the open door before realising that he was in Damian’s room.

“What the-” Jason’s voice suddenly filled the corridor followed by a harsh curse. 

“Tim?” he asked, peeking his head around the corner. Tim hastily fastened his trousers, nose scrunching up at the damp spot pressing against him.

“What, in God’s name, was that?” Jason asked, sounding incredibly irritated and a bit too knowingly.

“A mistake is what it was,” Tim snapped, stomach rapidly turning. Of course, Damian would bolt. Not like it meant something. 

“I just ran into…” he trailed off, probably putting it together already, “he looked – I don’t know – like… scared to death.”

Tim harrumphed, a sound void of any humour. It felt like being shot right through the heart. Damian was so repressed, it wasn’t even funny. How Tim could have hoped something real would come of this, he didn’t know. He should have been smarter, should have kept his emotions in check. They should never have gone that far. A little bit of guilt washed over him at the panic on Damian’s face. Great. He had fucked up royally.

When he told Jason as much, he raised a brow before leaning against the doorframe.

“What happened, Tim?” Did he have to sound so understanding? Wasn’t that reserved for Dick?

And Tim, despite knowing this was all his fault, broke down.

“I thought-” he pressed out, feeling all kinds of stupid, “I asked him about the drawings and why he was jealous and things- things derailed from there.”

“So you two…” Jason’s hand gesture couldn’t be described as anything but crude, yet, in encompassed the situation perfectly. Tim chuckled, a dry, sad thing.

“Yeah. And he bolted right after.” Even to his own ears, Tim sounded biting. Jason looked contemplative for a minute before nodding like it made sense.

“He was probably overwhelmed.”

“With what? He asked me to.”

“That doesn’t change, how he’s grown up. And being- uhm- close to you like that could- I don’t know- spook him?”

“Spook him.”

“Yep.”

“You talkin’ from experience?”

“Careful, baby bird.” Tim heard the warning clearly, deciding to back down. He didn’t want to fight with Jason too. Especially, since he was trying to help.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“Wait it out.”

“What?”

“Seriously. Give him some time. Wait till he approaches you. If he wants this, he’ll come to you.”

“Right.” 

“You don’t believe me.” Apparently, he didn’t hide his disbelief well. Par for the course really. But it wasn’t like his incredulity was unfounded. 

“A little hard to believe you when he just stormed out.”

“How ‘bout you have a little faith in me, hm? Besides…” he leaned in, a smirk on his lips that was highly infuriating. What Dick saw in him, Tim would never know. Okay, now, that wasn’t true. Jason was a great guy and Tim knew it.

“Since when is the brat letting go of something he really, really wants?”

He also might have a point. They exchanged a glance.

“Bruce should have told him no more often,” Tim mused, making Jason laugh.

“True. But then, you would have to actually track him down. Thanks to B, you can sit back and wait until he comes crawling.”

That image should not have been as tempting as it was. Tim shook it off.

“What if he doesn’t?” 

Once more, Jason seemed to think it over in his head before looking at Tim with a grin that spoke of trouble.

“Then him an I will have a nice, long chat. Hell, I’ll even make Dick do the puppy dog eyes.”

For some reason, having both of their support made Tim settle, made his thoughts quiet down.

* * *

“Are turtlenecks in season?” Damian pulled his shirt up even higher. He didn’t like the implication in Todd’s voice. He was self-conscious about the marks so visible on his skin like Drake had made it his personal mission to remind Damian, he had indeed been there.

“I was cold.” A split second after the words left his mouth, he realised, he had just handed Todd ammunition on a silver platter.

“I call bullshit,” Todd said and Damian prepared for his merciless teasing. Yet, when he moved into the room, closing the door behind him, his smile was gentle. It was an odd look for him, Damian decided, unusual but it suited him. Damian could almost see the side of him Richard saw, the one, Todd hid just like Damian hid his own emotions.

“But sure. Let’s say, you’re cold. Doesn’t explain why you ran me over in the hallway, half naked.”

“I was not-” It occurred to Damian that protesting would worsen his situation. Todd knew what he had seen and convincing him he had not, would not work.

“I fear, I may have… misbehaved,” Damian settled on. He didn’t want to reveal too much, yet the prospect of finally being able to tell someone was too alluring to be ignored. It could have been his lack of emotional awareness, but he was at a loss of what to do. When he had finished, his fears had overwhelmed him, so he had made a run for it. Only afterwards had the consequence of his action caught up with him.

Worst of all, the question remained: what would Drake think of him? Now that he knew, Damian possessed neither knowledge nor experience in that specific field of human interaction. He had never seen sense in it until Drake’s lips had found his.

“Misbehaved, huh?” Todd leaned against the wall with his shoulders, the picture of nonchalance. Yet, Damian detected genuine curiosity. He decided, to gather all his courage and simply be frank with him. If there was someone who would understand the difficulties of a rough past, Todd was the one and only candidate. Richard would be of no use here. 

“I did not mean to leave as I did.”

“Leave?” Todd asked and Damian instantly got the impression that he already knew. He powered on, thinking it. nonconsequential even if it was so.

“Drake’s room.”

“Why?” 

“Why?” Damian repeated, unclear as to what Todd was asking.

“Why did you leave?” 

“I was-” the next bit was rather hard to admit and Damian disliked having to do so, “I was overwhelmed.”

A smirk played at the corners of Todd’s mouth, yet it was not unkind. Damian waited for him to speak and when it became clear, he would not, Damian continued.

“I should not have left like I did, but I could not-” he trailed off, heat spreading on his face.

“You couldn’t deal,” Todd said, like it was obvious. He paused as if trying to weigh two possible answers in his head.

“It’s hard, you know?” he said, “intimacy after you haven’t had it in probably forever- I- I get that.”

“It is not normal, I understand,” Damian intervened, feeling rather uncomfortable about this whole topic. Still, there was no one else whom he could speak to, who wouldn’t berate him for being unsure on how to handle his issues. The thought made him pause. Years ago, even the idea of speaking Todd in more than hissed insults would have been incredulous. Now, he bared himself to Todd in a way, he would have never thought either possible or desirable.

“Look you’re not- you’re not messed up for being like this. But you have to work on it if you wanna continue whatever it is the both of you are doing.” Todd looked quite uncomfortable too, like he didn’t know how to speak of this plainly. Damian appreciated his efforts. 

“Do you-” Todd suddenly asked, sounding a little more alert than before, “want to continue?”

“I am unsure…” Damian admitted against the clog in his throat, blocking his air flow.

“If you want to or if you can?” Todd seemed to have hit the nail on the head. A part of Damian thought, he spoke of experience.

“The latter,” he stated and saw understanding pass Todd’s features but not surprise, like he had guessed and guessed correctly. 

“He likes you, you know that?” 

“I- may have been informed…”

“And what do you think?” Todd’s face gave no hint if he would like for Damian to affirm or deny his affections. 

“I-” he would rather not tell, however, the ache in his chest needed articulation at some point.

“He intrigues me,” Damian said, although it felt like he was cheating.

“Intrigues you?” Todd laughed. Damian knew instantly, it was real and not him being made fun of. The knowledge soothed the anxiety pooling in his stomach for a moment.

“High praise, coming from you,” Todd continued, “but what I wanna know is if he gets your blood flowing. If you want a repeat performance of what happened that day.”

Before Damian could attempt an answer, Todd’s face changed into something serious.

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know? If you’re uncomfortable with doing something, you shouldn’t do it.”

“I am perfectly aware of that,” Damian snapped, against better judgment.

“I’m glad you are. I don’t want you thinking physical intimacy has to be part of a relationship.”

“We are not- this is-” Damian spluttered, “Drake and I are not in a relationship!”

“Course not,” Todd conceded, adding with a wink, “but you could be.”

It took the wind right out of his sails and that pit in his stomach widen with the urge to swallow him whole. He had no idea what to do with this information, how to proceed or why Todd was even telling him.

“I can see you panicking from here,” Todd remarked, still amused, “calm your tits, babybrat. He’s not gonna make a move on you, unless you tell him, it’s what you want.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Todd,” Damian snarled. At this point, it was his one and only defence mechanism and not one, he was particular proud of.

“I’m really not,” he said, the smirk slowly vanishing.

“I know, it’s difficult- talkin’ feelings and all that- _hell_ , Dick is always on me for being so prickly when it comes to that kind of stuff but I can’t help it. After-” he stopped briefly, apparently having to calm himself, “after what happened, I couldn’t stand him touching me- I didn’t want to. But I worked on my end and he worked on his and that’s what this is about. It’s not- Tim’s not expecting anything of you other than that you try. If you want him, that is. And if not, I’m sure, he’ll be okay with that too. You just need- and I can’t believe, I’m saying this and to you of all people- but you need to communicate.”

“I am not sure how,” Damian said, aiming for blatant honesty after Todd had opened up to him.

“He seems to think the worst of me…” that little bit of information wasn’t meant to have come out, yet he saw understanding dawn on Todd’s face with a tinge of sadness to accompany it.

“I get that, okay?” Todd spoke softly, reminiscing, “Dick was- well, he wasn’t the same because Dick just refuses to see the bad in people, but I understand.”

“Some days, I think, he is right…” Damian mumbled, a tightness in his chest that felt like suffocating.

“I get that too. But he’s not, okay? It just easier to think that than to acknowledge, he hurt your feelings too.” 

Damian nodded, trying to make sense of what Todd was saying to him.

“I’m going to ask you something, and you have the right not to answer but I want you to think about it, okay?”

Another nod, this one coming a little less easily.

“Do you like him?”

Damian stared at Todd, at his bravado and his bulk and the way those were nothing but a façade. He had seen Todd break down and stand up again, brushing himself of because no one else would do it for him. He had watched Todd walk into a fight he could not win and still remain calm and collected, with a sense of superiority that had been nothing but genuine. The answer, the obvious answer, lay on the forefront of the tongue. Damian wanted to say it, wanted to be brave too, even if that meant faking courage until he possessed it.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said. And with the way Todd grinned at him, he felt like he had given the right answer.

* * *

One week. One week of passing looks and strained silence. Tim had had it. He had no problem giving Damian time to process what had happened, however that didn’t mean, they couldn’t be in the same room together. For God’s sake, Tim hadn’t talked to him for seven days and it was getting to him. Never would he have suspected, he would miss the brat. He was tempted to ask Jason for help but the man was elusive as ever. Even Dick complained about his absence.

Tim slammed down his fist on the table, with so much force, it caused his mug to fall and shatter into tiny little pieces on the floor. Taking a few strained breaths through his nose, he bent over to pick up the shards. To his left, Dick cleared his throat.

“You’re agitated,” he remarked, eyes glued to his screen. 

“Congrats. You want a fucking prize?” Tim snapped, realising only too late that he had just proven Dick’s point.

“I want to know what’s wrong,” Dick said, gentle as ever. Tim felt like an asshole undeserving of his kindness.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he mumbled, too proud to admit what bothered him so much, it distracted him from his job.

“I don’t want to pry,” Dick started, “but I want you to know that I’m here… if you want to talk.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, with Tim keenly aware that Dick was purposefully turned away from him.

“I messed up.”

Dick remained silent, inclining his head like he wanted to coax Tim to continue.

“Damian and I- we had a- a thing? And he ran away after.” It wasn’t like him to stutter, Tim was well aware. Yet, he couldn’t get out a straight sentence when it came to this dreadful afternoon. 

“A thing?”

 _“I kissed him,”_ Tim blurted out, unable to keep it to himself any longer, “I kissed him, okay? And he ran away like hell was on his heels. You should have seen the look on his face. Like he was disgusted.”

The mere memory of that particular expression on such a handsome face disgusted Tim in turn.

“I’m sure, he wasn’t disgusted…” Dick said in a soft voice. He didn’t seem the last bit surprised at Tim’s outburst. Tim suspected, Jason had talked to him already and felt stupid for not having seen it earlier.

“You didn’t see him, Dick,” he said, shivering slightly.

“I don’t have to,” Dick countered with the beginnings of a smile, “I know Dami can be difficult but I also know that he would never be disgusted by you kissing him.”

“He could be!”

“But he isn’t. For whatever reason he ran away, I can tell you, it wasn’t that.”

“Then why? I gave him plenty of time to stop and he didn’t! So why run away right after?” 

“I don’t know.” Dick shrugged, looking lost in thought.

“It drives me mad,” Tim admitted under his breath, “that he won’t talk to me.”

“Then maybe you should talk to him? Have you considered that?”

“Or _maybe_ ,” Jason’s voice suddenly boomed through the room, sounding far too amused, “you should listen to what I told you and wait him out.”

“Don’t be like that, Jay,” Dick tutted, obviously aware that Jason was having too much fun with this.

“I’m not being like anything, Dickhead,” Jason smirked around the insult, but Dick smiled too, indicating that he knew, Jason wasn’t being serious.

“He’ll come to you once he’s ready because we both know, he can’t resist taking what he wants for too long.”

“You talked to him, didn’t you?” Dick suspected and they both watched Jason blush seven shades of red at being called out. 

“You shut your mouth, Dickie, or I’ll make you.” And now, they were back to blatant flirting. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Yeah?” Dick snarled right back, “I think, it’d be the other way ‘round, don’t you, Jay?” His voice had taken on an edge Tim hadn’t heard before and would rather not hear again. It sounded a little too sexual for his taste, especially, where his brothers were concerned. In an attempt to avoid mental scarring, Tim cleared his throat loudly. They both startled like they had forgotten he was there.

Jason found his head first and screwed it straight back on, all thoughts of flirting with Dick forgotten. He scratched his forehead, searching for what he had wanted to say before Dick had interrupted.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, if you had your talk sooner rather than later.”

And with that ominous statement, he turned heel and walked right back out, winking over his shoulder, surely, to make Dick follow. Which he did. Without so much as word and almost dashing for the door. Tim heard them stumble into each other in the hallway, followed by some laughter.

He smiled to himself, bad mood almost forgotten.

* * *

Jason was right. Tim didn’t usually admit to it, but today, he simply had to. Damian had been incredibly awkward around him at breakfast, for once deciding to be in the same room. Before Tim could leave to go about his day, Damian stepped into his way.

“Drake, I-” and God, Tim wanted him to finish his sentence but he couldn’t let him. Not when it was so plainly obvious, he felt unsure of himself and the entire situation.

“Later,” he said, cutting Damian off effectively, “we’ve got a job to do and not much time to figure out where they’ll hit next.”

“Drake-” Damian tried again, this time more vigorously.

“It’s fine, Dami,” he insisted, “I promise, we’ll talk later.”

Damian nodded, the colour returning to his face. It suited him, Tim thought, that slight tinge of lively red in his cheeks against the jade of his eyes.

* * *

Despite thinking of nothing else, the call came, like the one before. A mile per minute, Tim’s brain had been working, and still, it wasn’t fast enough. What the Commissioner said, made Tim want to pull out his hair at the seams until his scalp looked a bloody mess.

This was their fault.

They had been too slow, too preoccupied and now, they were paying for it. The Commissioner’s words played on a loop, until the words were etched into his brain so deeply, it would have needed laser removal to rid himself of them.

_We have another one._


	3. Trust me

> _I need a second chance. You see, I wasn't quite ready for the first._

The Commissioner had sent over a picture of the last victim. The first thing Tim noticed was the change in pattern. This girl had jet black hair instead of blonde. Maybe, he considered, the killer didn’t much care for hair.

“Wait a minute,” Jason spoke suddenly in a tone Tim didn’t like. He sounded alarmed.

“What is it?”

“Elite, around 20 to 25, rich. First a girl, then a boy. Pairs. First Blond, now black. That ring any bell?” He was met with confused faces until Damian snorted. 

“That is not new information, Todd,” Tim heard Damian snarl and nearly rolled his eyes. Of course, the brat couldn’t say any of this in a nice way. Then again, Tim kind of agreed. Just not with the tone.

“Shut your trap,” Jason bit right back, apparently more on edge than usual, “if that’s their MO then we have one hell of a problem.”

“How come?” Dick had stepped closer, peering over Jason’s shoulder like that would give him all the answers. 

“’Cause our dear Timmy here…” he paused as if for dramatic effect, “fits that pattern.”

“What?” Tim’s brain screeched to a halt. His thoughts whirled in his head. That couldn’t be right. Could it? 

“Think it through, babybird. You are one of Gotham’s elite, a Wayne heir, CEO, twenty-one, rich as fuck,” and he continued in a grave voice, “if it were me, that’d be the grand finale. Who better than you? I mean… think of the media- they’ll go nuts, the second news hits that Timothy Drake was killed.”

“But that’s good news,” Tim heard himself speak without recognising the words which came out of his mouth as his own, “it means we have an inkling where they could potentially hit.”

“Tim-”

“No, don’t you get it?” he looked around, trying to convince them with his eyes alone, “it could give us the upper hand.”

“You want to be bait,” Bruce didn’t ask; he simply stated because there was no misunderstanding Tim’s intention.

“It’s part of the job,” Tim argued, despite Bruce not having said anything yet which would have warranted an argument.

“But how can we be sure, they’re coming for Tim?” While Jason could very well be wrong, it wasn’t particularly likely. Tim suspected Dick wasn’t asking because he didn’t believe Jason was right, but because he didn’t _want_ to believe he was right. And therein lay all the difference. 

“Because we are going to stage it so that they’ll target me.” So simple, so perfect an opportunity. It almost let Tim forget the dangers that came with being bait. 

“You cannot be serious, Drake,” Damian, who had been conspicuously silent, suddenly snapped.

“If you have a better idea to catch them, just let me know. But this is our only chance. This is the only time we could determine the victim before they hit it.”

“Because the victim will be you!” Damian yelled, surprising not only Tim but Jason as well. Meanwhile, Dick looked merely curious. 

“So, what? This is our job! Who better than me?”

Damian’s facial expression seemed to mean something along the lines of “everybody” but he was intelligent enough not to say that out loud. Tim would have decapitated him with one of his stupid swords, if he had.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, nodding sharply when Tim reiterated. He was glad, though, that Bruce had asked and to know, Bruce wouldn’t have made him do it if he had indicating even the slightest bit of doubt.

“We need a plan,” Dick said, already typing away on his laptop. Nobody asked what exactly he was doing.

“You said, you wanted to stage it?” Jason had scooted closer to Dick but addressed Tim, even while his back was turned.

“Yeah, you know, making me the most desirable target.”

“How?” If only he had an answer to that. 

“If we knew what it is they hate so much about the elite, we could make Tim out to be that exact thing,” Dick mentioned offhandedly. A lightbulb lit up in Tim’s head. 

“The epitome of the elite…” Tim mumbled, an idea having occurred to him then and there. 

“Give an interview, present yourself as exactly what Gotham perceives you to be. Talk about the murders, how you’re not frightened,” Dick said, already painting an image in Tim’s head of the character he was about to portray for the masses.

Jason put in “be the obnoxious Wayne heir everyone sees when they look at you.”

“Alfred said that to me once,” Bruce cut in, seemingly deep in thought, “he said, be who you were born to be: Bruce Wayne billionaire brat.”

“He said that?” Tim saw unabashed glee on Jason’s face, like he had just come across blackmail material for life. 

“Yes.” Bruce nodded solemnly, no doubt thinking back to that instance. Tim would have given his right arm to have been there and witness Alfred sassing Bruce like that. Those were always memories to behold. 

“Were you?”

“Was I what?”

“A billionaire brat?” The amusement in Jason’s voice couldn’t have been more prominent if he had tried. 

“On that evening?” Bruce smirked just like Jason smirked at everyone else and Tim suddenly saw the resemblance between the two, more striking even that to Damian, his bloodson.

“Of course, I was,” he sounded highly amused about it before adding “no one can do Bruce Wayne quite like me.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that, old man,” Jason smirked right back at him, like they were sharing something just the two of them could see.

“You are underestimating the dangers of this plan.”

“I can assure you, Dami, we’re not.”

“Then you seem to forget, the last time we interfered with their plans, they used acid on Todd.”

“That won’t happen to me.”

“You cannot be sure of that.”

“No, but I’ll take my chances.”

“You are reckless, Drake,” Damian spat out, voice seething. 

“Maybe. But I want this case closed. And I don’t want somebody else to die because I was too worried about myself to step in when I could have.”

“Because you have no regard for your personal safety!”

“And you do?”

“ _Yes_!” The second, the word was out of his mouth, Damian looked like he wanted to swallow it back down. Too late. Everyone in the room had heard it. Tim’s mind whirled with all the possible interpretations of Damian’s outburst.

“How ‘bout you trust him when he says, he knows what he’s doing?” Jason asked into the silence. He addressed Damian with an unusual gentleness, like an unspoken secret passed between them. Tim remembered, how Jason had mentioned talking to Damian in private. To all of their surprise, Damian merely huffed and turned away, not bothering with an affirmation, yet not protesting either.

“I want at least one tracker on you,” Bruce said from where he was apparently scheduling a press conference for Tim to attend.

“Of course.” He wouldn’t have it any other way. A tracker was a must in situations like these, and, unlike Jason, he wasn’t allergic to Bruce’ protective instincts. At least, if they were aimed at him in an appropriate capacity.

* * *

Putting aside their conflicts, Damian had watched the press conference and had marvelled at Drake’s performance. If he had not known Drake to be entirely indifferent to material goods, he would have believed him to be the spoiled brat everyone had called him in his childhood days. He felt uneasy watching that kind of behaviour coming from Drake, whom he had worked with so closely over the years. Gotham would be convinced of his lies, without doubt.

Still, Damian found himself hoping, the murderers would not pick Drake. He was aware, how capable Drake was, however, he did not want to test him. The last thing he wished was to see Drake spread out on a table, paler than usual with a black flower in his mouth. The thought alone let him shiver, despite the room temperature being fairly warm.

Richard had followed him to his room and was now pacing between his bed and the window. Of course, they were all quite on edge about the whole affair. And Richard did not take kindly to unsolved murders. Neither did Drake, for that matter. Damian was well aware that priorities were situated elsewhere but his mind would not settle. His encounter with Drake continued to taunt him.

To have Richard in his room, someone who managed to see beyond Todd’s insecurities and keep their relationship afloat, was tempting. He debated, in his head, whether speaking to Richard of his desire to resolve the situation would be a good idea. After some pondering, he could not refuse himself any longer. Especially, considering that Drake was about to be taken by the murderers. For all Damian knew, this could be the mission where they failed, the one where not all of them would return safely.

He did not want to risk that.

“I wish- I would like to talk to Drake.” It cost him more than he would have thought to admit it. Even to Richard. Even in the privacy of his own room. 

“Jay got to you too?” From his question, Damian took that he needn’t have asked. Yet, he answered nonetheless, conceding “I- he is not entirely without sense.”

“I’ll make sure to tell him that, little D. He’s gonna love that,” Richard’s grin could not have been more pleased. Damian suspected, he was as gone for Todd as the latter was for Richard in return. It almost made him smile, their having found happiness in the midst of all this bloodshed.

“Anyway,” Richard waved his hand as if to rip himself out of his thoughts about Todd, “what do you want to talk to Timmy about?” The question vexed Damian, for he knew it to be merely a rhetorical one. He expressed his disapproval immediately. 

“You are well aware, Richard. Do not pretend to be a fool.” He would not stand for being ridiculed. Especially not by Richard. Someone in a relationship with Todd had to be quite aware of his surroundings at all times, seeing as the most nonsensical things could set him off. 

Richard sighed “I wasn’t- that’s not what I was doing, Dami. I just thought you might want to tell me yourself.”

“No.” 

“’kay.” With that Richard turned to leave, apparently perceiving their interaction as completed. Damian did not agree. 

“Wait,” he loathed to admit to the slight frustration in his voice. 

“Yes?” Richard said it gently, like he wished to coax Damian into speaking his mind. It soothed his nerves a little, made him feel secure enough to speak his mind. 

“I may… need help.”

Richard did not mock him, contrary to Damian’s fears. He simply asked “What do you need help for?”

“I do not know how to…” Despite his not finishing his sentence, Richard seemed to understand anyway. 

“Breach the subject?”

“Yes.”

“How about you just tell him the truth? That you didn’t mean to run and that you feel bad but that you’d like to continue?” How Richard came to this conclusion without speaking to Damian himself was blatantly obvious. As was most often the case, this was entirely Todd’s fault. 

“Todd talks too much,” he mumbled, displeased with himself for having shared his insecurities with so many people. 

“Let’s decide to disagree on that.” Richard’s smile was sickeningly beautiful. It was so different from the ones he showed at Galas. And it was reserved singularly for Todd. Even at the time when Todd had been less friendly, when he had kicked Richard in the gut before bolting over the roofs, Richard’s smile had been the same if a little less gentle.

Damian had no doubt that Todd was well aware of this. He had complained about Richard’s smile at that time, despite Damian sensing, he had secretly been pleased. If only he could express his interest similarly, he would not have to discuss his issue with a forever love-sick Richard.

“What if Drake does not wish to reconcile?” 

“I have it on good authority that that won’t happen.” Todd, of course. Even if it was true, Drake would never admit to it. Unless he was desperate and Damian saw no reason for that. He expressed his doubts only to find Richard looking at him like he had when Damian had been a child.

“Dami,” Richard said, now with an air of annoyance, “I promise, he wants to reconcile, okay? You’re not the only one messed up about this thing.”

“He was… messed up?” Those words did not come natural to him.

“What do you think? You ran out on him. He thought you were disgusted by what the two of you did.” What an odd suggestion. Drake, sometimes, was truly an idiot. Disgusted. If Damian had been disgusted by Drake’s hands on him, he would have said so. Most certainly the moment Drake had laid his hands on him. 

“I was not- that is not what happened,” he said, unable to keep the incredulity at Drake’s stupidity out of his voice. 

“I’m well aware,” Richard spoke with so much confidence, the anxiety in his stomach settled a little. At least, before he added “but Tim isn’t.”

* * *

His bag lay packed on his bed as he was putting finishing touches to his outfit. It wouldn’t do to be captured in jeans and t-shirt. A knock on the door and he took one last glance around to make sure, he had everything he needed.

“Ready?” Dick had come to collect him then. He gnawed at his lips when he helped Tim carry his stuff. Tim nodded, not in the mood to talk.

“Jay’s already at your apartment, installing cams.”

“Why Jason?”

“Well, he’s always been the one for breaking and entering, figured he could put it to use for once.” Dick’s affronted tone made Tim smile. Of course, Jason was good at breaking and entering. The guy had broken into and out of Arkham, something which not even Bruce had accomplished to this day. 

“He’ll be gone when I get there?” Not that he wanted him to be gone but he knew, he couldn’t have company or their duo would turn tail. 

“Should be,” Dick held open the door for him to pass through, “you won’t even notice he was in there.”

“How’s-” he stopped, suddenly not sure if he wanted to breech that particular subject on the verge of a mission.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Tim…” From Dick’s tone Tim could tell, he was somewhere between annoyed and nervous. 

“I was just-” he had to breathe to steady himself “how’s he doing?” He hated himself a little for having given in. And yet, Dick’s answer was all he could think about. 

“He worries.”

“Yeah, right…”

“I swear, you and Jay are so dense sometimes…”

“What?”

“You really don’t want to see it, do you? Even now after the scene he made.”

“He was being a brat.”

“He was _worried_ ,” Dick heaved a sigh, “for all our sake’s Timmy, don’t play dumb now.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. And I think you’re doing it on purpose because he scares the hell out of you.”

“Maybe this isn’t the right moment-”

“I don’t care, alright? You’re about to be kidnapped and he worries about you. And you refuse to see it because if you didn’t, you would have to consider _why_ he scares you so much.”

“He doesn’t scare me.”

“Yes, he does,” Dick snorted without humour, “because you _like_ him and he hurt you.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Maybe,” he conceded with a shrug, “but I didn’t back out on talking to Jay when it mattered.”

“There’s no time to talk to him now.”

“No. But the least you could do is acknowledge that he does worry,” Dick’s expression softened, “he _cares_ , Timmy. Don’t throw that away.” He wasn’t about to. At the same time, he couldn’t just forget what had happened.

“I’m not throwing anything away, okay?” he tried to explain “I just- what he did- the way he looked at me- it’s hard to look beyond that…”

“I understand that,” Dick said, now sounding half amused, half sad, “I’m with Jason if you might remember…”

“Oh, I remember.” That one was hard to forget too. Mostly, because Dick and Jason were so sickeningly in love it was hard to watch sometimes. 

“Then you’ll probably guess how well he deals with emotions,” he breathed out heavily “he lashes out even when he doesn’t mean to and even though I know that, it still hurts.” The pain was evident in his voice, his eyes had turned into a stormy sea. 

“Then what do you do?” There had to be a way. If Dick could deal with Jason’s outbursts, maybe there was something to be done about Damian’s. 

“I remind myself of who he is, of what he went through because then it makes sense and I can talk to him… we can figure it out.”

Tim barely dared to ask “you think it’s the same with him?”

“Not the same but similar, I think. They’re both…”

“Idiots?” Tim threw in, making Dick chuckle. 

“That too.”

“But you love him,” it wasn’t really a question, not with the way Dick looked at Jason and Jason looked back in return. 

“Yes,” Dick smiled around his answer, a brilliant, beautiful thing. It was the most comforting affirmation Tim had heard all day. It meant there was a chance. If someone like Jason, who had been through hell and more, could work it out, so could Damian.

* * *

Dick was proven right when Tim entered his flat. Nothing at all seemed out of place. Jason had come in and out without leaving a trace. The only thing that hinted at his ever being present was his perfume. It should have been unnerving, yet, he felt instantly protected. Like a veil of Jason’s muscle covered the building. Tim suspected, he had done it on purpose because he knew, Tim would get restless in the evening. He trusted Jason with his life and having his scent here – a scent so familiar – had a calming effect.

In the end, the attack was basic as ever and lacking in originality. Tim was almost disappointed. He had been chloroformed and transported somewhere he didn’t recognise. Now, he was currently naked – much to his discomfort – and strapped to a table.

“There he is…” a soft voice, female, came from his right. Tim turned his head to see but couldn’t make out more than silhouettes.

“Just in time for the ritual.”

 _Ritual_.

Something in Tim’s mind stirred when he heard the man mention that word.

“What are you going to do with me?” he asked, having difficulties talking after being unconscious. He made sure to use an overall whining tone, something spoiled and scared to keep up appearance.

“We’re going to sacrifice you,” the woman said like Tim was stupid for not having caught on yet.

“But you can’t. I’m- I’m Timothy Drake. You can’t do this! When my father hears about this, he’ll-”

“See? This is always the case with you brats. You think daddy will swoop in and save you because you haven’t learnt to do anything else in your life than sit tight and wait for someone else to do the work.” The hatred in the man’s voice was an ugly thing. Tim suspected, he had a personal vendetta against the elite. The woman, though, he had no idea why she was doing this. 

“You are lunatics! I demand, you release me at once!” Later, he would have to admit, he had channelled his inner Damian to come across convincingly. Damian had sure been a brat in the beginning.

“Oh, we’re gonna release you,” the woman whispered, sounding slightly unhinged with a sprinkle of madness on top.

“But first, we need this.” She held up a large knife, quite sharp by the look of it. Instinctively, Tim tried to scoot backwards. That knife was not something he wanted to be introduced to, thank you very much.

“Wait!” he yelled, “wait! At least, tell me why! Please!” 

“Why? You want to know why?” 

“Yes!” He didn’t need to do much acting, the knife genuinely intimidated him. Apart from that, he had to gain some time for the others to get here. Knowing Bruce, they couldn’t be far away. 

“Fine,” the woman didn’t drop the knife but she lowered it a good few inches, “I guess, it’s only fair.”

Tim breathed out like he was genuinely relieved at the delay. Meanwhile, he tried to get a sense of his surroundings, scanning the room for hints about his whereabouts. A basement, he figured, with no windows, and a pungent smell of blood. Tim’s stomach turned when he recognised it for what it was. He realised, that must be the very table every other victim had been murdered on.

The resulting retching was not as fake as he would have liked.

Meanwhile, the man started talking, like he was caught in his own world of thinking. It cemented Tim’s suspicion that he was the driving force of this “operation”.

“I was like you once, you know?” Of course. Great. Another one of those. Like Tim hadn’t seen enough bastards like this in his day already.

“My father gave me everything I wanted until his good fortune ran out. He died a year later, leaving me with all those debts and bills to pay. I couldn’t afford them.” And now, his voice had turned into something hysteric, so much so that Tim wanted to cover his ears.

“I turned to my friends, you know? But guess what? They didn’t know me anymore.” Maybe you should have made better friends then, Tim thought but didn’t say. 

“I begged them to help me and they refused, laughed at me.”

Sorry for himself, that bastard felt sorry for himself. Tim hated those kinds of crimes where people had lost their mind to the point where they thought what they were doing was right.

“But I didn’t do this! I don’t even know you!”

“Oh, I know. I know. They’re all long gone.”

“Then why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to you!”

“Because the city has to be cleansed! Don’t you see? This city is crawling with people like you who think they’re above everything!”

“We need to cut out the bad seeds like you and sacrifice them so that a new generation of better people may rise.”

“You’re crazy! I didn’t do anything to anyone! I donate to the poor! This is-”

He couldn’t go on with his speech because a hand was pressed over his mouth, silencing him.

“It’s time,” the woman said while Tim screeched himself hoarse beneath the hand holding his mouth close. Once more, she held up the knife and this time, he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

All of a sudden, panic flooded his system. He couldn’t escape, being naked and all. His arms were being held by metal binds, his legs were immovable too. The knife pierced his skin, splitting it in a line from his stomach to his chest. Tim screamed into the hand, writhing on the table. A searing pain made his skin burn. The woman mirrored the cut on his other side, making Tim’s eyes water and his breath come short.

_Where were the others?  
_

_Why was no one coming for him?_

“The city will thank you for your sacrifice,” the man said in awe like he was watching the second coming of Jesus. Tim wanted to kick him in the teeth and make him bleed all over that damn table himself.

 _Come on_ , he thought, _get your asses in here_.

Another cut and Tim wanted to curl in on himself. He had been injured so many times, yet this slow cutting of skin hurt more than he had considered. It shouldn’t even have come to that. They should have gotten him out before anything would happen. He didn’t want to live his life with a scar of a pentagram etched into his skin. That was, if he made it out of here alive. 

“And now, for the final act,” the man spoke again, holding a rose in his hand that was pitch black.

_No._

Everything in Tim rebelled at the sight. He knew, it could only be a matter of seconds before they rammed the knife into his throat and cut that open too. He didn’t want to die.

After everything, he had done under the mantle of Robin and then Red Robin, he refused to go like this.

* * *

His breath came short. He was running, Todd hot on his heels. It had taken them too long to trace the signal, to figure out where exactly they had taken Drake. His heart beat in his chest like a humming bird. They could not be too late. Damian refused to even consider the possibility. Another corner and the flight of stairs. Richard raced him to the door, kicking it open before his father had given the signal.

Time slowed for a moment when Damian spotted the knife dangling precariously over Drake’s throat. He was strapped to a table, cuts littering his body. Blood drenched his skin like a cocoon of red. 

A fight broke out when the man grabbed a gun and fired a shot at Todd. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, buddy,” Todd yelled from where he was shielding himself behind a locker. Meanwhile, Richard rushed to the table, trying to untie Drake. Damian joined his father in the fight against the woman. He managed to rip the knife out of her hands, delivering a cut to her arm mirroring the ones on Drake’s body. His father called him off but he felt justified in hurting her.

_How dare she cut Drake like this?  
_

Todd yelled for them to take cover. Damian dropped to his knees when shots rang through the air. 

“You bastard!” Todd snarled, having been hit in the leg. He still managed to make his way over, shielded by Richard who had let out a roar of fury when he had seen Todd’s pain.

“You’re going to pay for that, just you wait!” Damian shared the sentiment. He would have gladly taken his sword to cut out the man’s throat if his father had permitted it. The woman had been knocked unconscious by Richard’s high kick. The man was still fighting the pair of them, cursing and shooting left and right. Damian did not turn to look at him, trusting Richard and Todd to have it under control.

“Dami?” It was that. Only that. The softest of voices calling out his name. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, cheesy as that metaphor sounded. He stood, from his crouched position, turned to Drake. Up close, he looked worse than from afar. 

“You are an idiot, Drake,” he muttered, relief flooding his system when Drake stared back at him with a raised brow, eyes a clear blue and just as icy as they had always been. No trace of impending death on his face. The cuts, however, Damian did not wish to examine at the moment.

Only then – while deliberately not looking at the wounds – did he notice, Drake was naked. He was about to shrug off his jacket when he heard a yell and a loud thump. The man went down like a sack of rice with Todd hovering over him. He had a mad gleam in his eyes but Damian categorised it as restrained fury. Richard held onto his arm, soothed him.

“Take this,” Todd’s jacket flew at him while Todd kept staring at the man he had just knocked out. 

“Are you okay?” father asked, loosening the metal which held Drake to the table. 

“Been better,” Drake answered, words slightly slurred, “what took you so long?”

“The signal was blocked for a while. We couldn’t trace it.” Drake nodded, taking the explanation at face value.

“Glad you made it,” he muttered. Damian saw it happen a split second before it did and tried to intervene. But it was too late.

Drake’s eyes fluttered close.

* * *

The first thing, Tim noticed upon opening his eyes was the searing pain in his chest. His instinct told him to stay put while every nerve screamed at him to sit up. Luckily, a hand pushed him back down gently when he moved. 

“You’re injured. Don’t pop your stitches.”

“B…” Tim instantly relaxed, knowing, he was safe. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t make it there sooner.”

“Not a problem,” Tim said and meant it. The risk came with the job. He was only glad, he was still alive.

“It shouldn’t scar too badly,” Bruce continued, regret evident in his voice.

“God, I hope not. I don’t want to see that every time I take my shirt off.” He tried for humour but couldn’t quite deliver.

“Their trial will be in a week. You’re supposed to testify.”

“Okay?”

“Tell me when it suits you.” With that, he stood, walking briskly towards the door. Just before he left, he turned back around.

“You did well,” he said and Tim felt, he detected a hint of pride right there.

“But I don’t need to tell you that, do I?” Tim didn’t see him but he heard the smile in his tone and couldn’t help but answer it with his own.

“Not really,” he said, feeling rather accomplished lying here like that.

“Sleep well,” Bruce called out to him, no doubt amused that Tim had no choice in the matter. The bastard had turned on his morphine pump. Tim would be out for another few hours, whether he liked it or not. Well, at least, he had an excuse to fall asleep now.

He deserved a bit of rest.

* * *

The mission had come to a fruitful end – a cause to celebrate – yet Damian experienced a restlessness not easily shaken off. He tried his best to relax and let sleep consume him. When even meditation resulted in nothing but furthering his agitation, he lost his patience and sat up. If only those thoughts of Drake would leave him be. He wished for peace of mind, for a tiny bit of relaxation. It refused him still. The silence was slowly getting to him, making him nervous and yet not at all so. Like something had set his blood on fire with no extinguisher in the near vicinity. Images of Drake, memories of his touch suddenly invaded his mind.

He fought them off for a minute, but gave in, finally, when he remembered Tim rasping out his name. Goosebumps erupted all over his arms, the cold air made him shiver. He did not want to recall his failure, his inability to stand Drake’s touch a moment longer. Full of shame, he had been, afraid of his response to what had occurred. He had been taught the dangers of seduction and to surrender to someone else so easily, to be rendered incapable of even standing upright by another person, it frightened him.

To know, it was Drake who had put him apart expertly, didn’t reassure him. They had had a strained relationship over the years and Damian hoped, it had changed for the better, however, he could not be entirely sure.

Once more, he was flooded with the memory of Drake uttering his name. Everything in him protested at his reaction so strong. It didn’t matter, in the end; he succumbed to the memories. Tentatively, he let his hand wander, feeling the planes of his chest in an imitation of Drake’s. His touch didn’t evoke the same feeling, but it would have to do for now.

Biting at his lip, he flattened his hand, shoving it down his pants until he found his destination. Ever since that incident, he had indulged frequently, quite unable to resist the urge like he had done for so many years. Impersonal, his ministrations had been, none the wiser of the pleasure, one simply touch could elicit. His thighs trembled, snapped shut when he fondled his balls.

 _Like Drake had done_ , the voice in his head reminded him with a biting tone.

He sought mainly to relieve himself from the stress of the last week, yet his unconscious craved Drake’s hands on him, urged to be touched the way Drake had done. He _wanted_ him. Embarrassment flooded his system, yet his erection did not wither away. He dreamed himself back to that day, imagined how Drake would pull him in roughly, would force his legs apart to stand in between.

His back arched, pleasure erupting like goose bumps all over his body. His face flamed with the knowledge of what he was doing, who he was fantasising about. He had relished Drake’s breath on his neck, had ached for Drake to see him come undone. If he could have remained oblivious to the implication of his actions, his desires, he would have chosen to do so.

It was infinitely easier to pretend it had been merely a physical connection they had shared.

Because Damian _wanted_.

 _Still_ wanted.

He hissed when his fingers brushed where Drake’s had, bucked his hips in response. Faintly, could he taste Drake’s lips on his, could see the icy blue of his gaze almost entirely swallowed by black. He had marvelled at the way Drake had looked when he had finished, wished to see it again until he would never forget. His breath came short, his chest heaved with effort. His erection jerked in his fist, like it too ached for Drake to be here.

Almost.

He was trembling, his fingers clenched in the sheet. With another roll of his hips, he chased completion. And yet, he couldn’t reach it.

The final push Damian needed, it refused him. He found himself unable to tip over the edge. Frustrated and still too aroused too sleep, he opted for a cold shower.

When his back hit the bed, his thoughts settled. Determination crept up behind closed eye lids.

Tomorrow, he vowed.

Tomorrow, he would talk to Drake and this nonsensical suffering would be over.

* * *

Something hung in the air, made it heavy with unspoken words. Tim had noticed it this morning already and it had only intensified since then. He suspected Damian was holding his tongue while wanting to speak. It made for a lousy atmosphere, one Tim couldn’t concentrate in.

 _Oh, who was he kidding_.

He wouldn’t concentrate, _period_ , if Damian was in the room and staring at him like he did. Maybe, Tim supposed, he was waiting for Tim to make the first move since he had been the one to rebuff him the last time. Clearing his throat, and turning to see if they were indeed alone, he decided to get it over with.

“You wanted to talk?” He tried his best not to let show how the silence aggravated him but didn’t think he would succeed. Meanwhile, Damian didn’t call him out on his snippy tone, staring at the ground like it held all the answers.

“Yes,” Damian said and sounded as uncertain of the fact as Tim himself felt. He moved his hand in a gesture translating to “well, go on” and leant against the wall.

“I- I wish to apologise for my behaviour.”

“Your behaviour?” Tim asked, throat clogging up. Maybe Dick was wrong and Damian was disgusted by what they had done. Or it hadn’t meant anything to him, like an experiment or some sick joke to get the upper hand.

“I should not have left the way I did,” Damian pressed out, cheeks flushed. The iron fist around Tim’s heart loosened considerably.

“Why did you?” he somehow managed to bite down on the accusations on the tip of his tongue, aware they would only make Damian turn around and leave. _Again_. While he supposed, he could have made it easier for him, he had been hurt by the whole ordeal. And Timothy Drake had always been too fond of holding grudges.

“I was-” Damian started but trailed off, gaze firmly fixed on the ground.

Tim decided to step in. “Look,” he said, “we can just- I don’t know- leave it in the past, right? There’s no need to talk about it anymore. I’ sorry, I overstepped but I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

It pained Tim beyond rational comprehension to give Damian the out he was likely about to take. But he didn’t want to force something when Damian obviously wasn’t interested. He should have known better than to push.

“Drake, I-” he almost didn’t dare look at him, anxious to see the relief on his face, but when Damian stepped into his space, closer than was usual for them, he had to lift his head. What he saw, was not relief. It was embarrassment, hope, fear.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, voice hoarse. The answer took a long time and it wasn’t the word Tim had expected to hear. 

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, incredulous, thinking this a misunderstanding.

“No. That is not what I want,” Damian reiterated, leaving no room for doubt. Tim felt incapable of answering with anything but a surprised “oh”. He watched as Damian fiddled with the hem of his shirt, his fingers shaking slightly. An impulse to reach out and take his hands in his was barely suppressed.

“I was-” Damian started anew, “overwhelmed with the proceedings of that day.” And Tim broke out laughing.

He couldn’t help himself. Because Jason had been spot on and Tim hadn’t believed him. Too late, he realised his mistake, when Damian backed away, face scrunched up in a pained expression.

“No,” he was quick to say, “I’m not laughing at you! I promise, I’m _not_ laughing at you!” He tried his best to convey sincerity. Damian halted in his steps, stared at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

“It’s just- Jason told me I should wait you out and I was so busy telling myself, you were disgusted by what we did that I didn’t believe him.”

“I was not disgusted,” Damian spat like the thought of being disgusted, disgusted him in turn.

Tim nodded. “I see that now.”

“I simply…” the embarrassment was back and Tim wished it gone with all his might.

“I felt overwhelmed and I did not know why you were-” he made a gesture Tim couldn’t decipher and trailed off.

“Kissing you?”

“Yes,” he said and sounded adorably confused.

“Because I wanted to,” Tim confessed, feeling bold suddenly, “I told you, I liked you, Dami. What did you think that meant?”

“I did not-”

“Believe me?”

“In part,” a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Tim decided, it made him look his age for once and a lot less grumpy.

“I- I experienced difficulties processing what occurred…” he finally let Tim know, although in the most bundled-up way he could manage.

“Okay,” Tim said, “what freaked you exactly?”

He looked expectantly at Damian and instantly saw his blush spread down his neck. It shouldn’t have been enticing, but alas, here they were.

“I’d like to know,” Tim continued, forcibly not thinking about how far that red would go, “because I really don’t want to do anything that sets you off.”

“I am unsure,” Damian finally spoke up, fingers twitching around the material of his shirt.

“Okay- okay that’s- that’s fine…” he didn’t want to pressure Damian into an answer he wasn’t ready to give or couldn’t give just yet.

“Do you-” he started but changed course half-way through, “how do you want to proceed then?”

That seemed a lot for Damian to process despite him licking his lips. Tim suspected, he knew what he wanted but either didn’t know how to express it or didn’t want to for some reason or other. Yet, hope had taken hold of Tim ever since he had come to understand that there was a slim chance Damian might like him back.

As opposed to what Tim expected – namely a verbal answer – Damian did something entirely astonishing. He grabbed Tim by his shirt and smashed their faces together so hard, Tim’s lip burst upon impact. Instantly, he moved away, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

“Easy does it, Dami,” he chuckled, relief flooding his system. He couldn’t have asked for a clearer signal of interest.

“I do not know how to…” he left the sentence unfinished, just like so many before but Tim didn’t need him to anyway. The frustration in his demeanour did so plainly enough. His smile still firmly in place, he moved closer slowly, savouring the moment when their breaths mingled. Starting with a soft brush of his lips against Damian’s, he moved his hand, letting it settle around Damian’s waist. He felt more than heard Damian’s breath hitch.

“See?” he whispered, voice low and full of want, “easy”. Damian nodded wildly, moving in once more. This time, Tim let him decide on his own pace. With surprising gentleness, Damian’s fingers curled around Tim’s neck, resting there.

Usually, Tim wasn’t fond of that kind of contact in that particular place but he had that sort of strange trust in Damian not to hurt him. He supposed, if Damian would have wanted to kill him – truly – there had been many opportunities to do so by now.

Melting into the kiss, Tim allowed himself to relax even more. His tongue sought out Damian’s, mingling with it until he could feel Damian’s heart beat rapidly under his palm. 

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you last time,” he mumbled between kisses, “I don’t want to rush you.” Damian responded with a hint of teeth to his bottom lip, nibbling when Tim’s own breath picked up.

“I do not feel rushed,” he was assured in a petulant tone. Tim shook his head, made Damian step back a bit. Not too far though.

“Maybe not now,” he said, “but, if I go too fast again…”

“I have thought about this, Drake,” Damian snarled, sounding much more like himself than he had all evening. Tim instantly felt reassured. One thing, though, he had to address before anything else could happen.

“ _Tim_ ,” he insisted, “you call me Tim when we do this.”

Damian’s pupils widened to black pools of desire. Tim had no idea what he had said to trigger that kind of reaction but he desperately wanted to know. Surely, it couldn’t have been the use of his name. But because Tim was curious at heart, he ached to try out his newest theory.

“Did you hear me, Dami? It’s either Tim or we’re not doing this.”

“I understand,” Damian breathed, mouth open and reddened already. While he looked a treat alright, Tim still wasn’t satisfied. He leaned in, not so close he would kiss Damian’s neck but just enough so that his breath ghosted over Damian’s pulse point. He saw Damian shiver and let his tongue dart out to dance over the skin there.

“Say it then,” he urged, hands closing around Damian’s hips to pull him in. The proof that his ministrations hadn’t been without effect met him when Damian pressed his erection against Tim’s thigh. Instantly, Tim shuffled around, pushing his legs apart to stand in between them.

“T-Timothy,” Damian hissed when Tim moved his thigh upwards, creating friction against the bulge in Damian’s pants.

“That’s it,” Tim praised, feeling the tremble going through Damian like electricity. Noticing the quick interval with which Damian’s breath ghosted over his skin, Tim paused for a moment. He sure was riled up already, despite their not having done anything to warrant it.

“Do not-” Damian pressed out but interrupted himself in the middle of his complaint, “do not stop.” Tim’s eyebrow raised on its own accord. With great difficulties, he managed to lean further back so that he could look at Damian. 

“You’re eager tonight,” he remarked, ensuring neither judgment nor ridicule would be present in his voice for that was not what he felt like. Rather the opposite, he realised. It turned him on, to see Damian aching for his touch, gave him a sense of power he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“I am not,” Damian protested but the effect was ruined by a sudden gasp.

“No? Could’ve fooled me,” Tim let his smile show, hoping to communicate that he liked it instead of mocking Damian for his reactions. 

“Timothy-” Damian ground out, hands closing around Tim’s waist like vices. He pulled Tim in, snapping his hips forward, although with a restraint Tim found slightly unnerving.

“You’re still holding back,” he said, slightly disappointed at the fact, “if you don’t want this, we don’t have to do anything.”

“Do not be stupid, Drake,” Damian hissed with his eyebrow raised, “I told you, I have thought about this.”

“Then tell me,” Tim waited until Damian’s eyes locked with his, “what did you think about?” 

Redness flushed Damian’s cheek and his gaze instantly dropped.

 _Embarrassed_ , Tim noted.

“Dami-” he started, “I want you to feel good but I don’t want to put you into a situation that would make you uncomfortable,” sighing, he decided to lay it all out on the table “I’m not saying it to tease you. I just- I want to know what you want to happen here.” 

Something he said made Damian’s shoulders relax a fraction but the red was still ever so present in his cheeks.

“I wish to-” As before, Damian seemed unable to articulate his desires, although, if he couldn’t or if he didn’t have a name for them, Tim wasn’t sure.

That is, until Damian suddenly blurted out “I wish to come.” Time froze between them. Tim was staring. He knew, he was. And yet, he couldn’t turn his gaze away, couldn’t stop. Hearing those words with such desperation made something inside him snap. Instantly, he leaned in, capturing Damian’s lips in a hard kiss, teeth clashing. His fingers trembled with unprecedented want, pulling Damian forward until their bodies aligned, deliciously grinding against each other.

“You wanna come, Dami? Want me to make you?” There was a purr in Tim’s voice, he hadn’t thought himself capable of. Damian nodded his head, a shaky little thing, his breath coming short. 

“How?” Oh, the look on him. Absolutely clueless and yet alluringly willing. Tim could have drowned in that look and would have died happily.

“How do you want to come?” When even that didn’t result in an answer, Tim lifted Damian’s chin with his fingers.

“Tell me babybat. You said you’ve thought about it, so, tell me what it was…” Finally, understanding dawned on Damian’s face. As did a renewal of his blush. Tim found, he wanted to trace it with his tongue, see how far down it really reached. Damian, meanwhile, shook his head.

“No? You don’t want to tell me?” Tim asked, a bit disappointed until an idea occurred to him, “or you don’t know?”

“I did not-” hearing Damian stutter ignited a fire in Tim, he hadn’t thought himself capable of. It rendered him speechless, seeing this self-assured, cocky boy turn into a blushing mess. 

“I did not think of details,” Damian finally said.

“Alright,” Tim decided then to take pity on him, “do you want me to try something and you tell me if you like it?” He wasn’t surprised when Damian nodded, eyes a bit wider than usual but otherwise seemingly content.

“Come with me?” he reached for Damian’s hand, pulling him out of the room. It had occurred to him, halfway through talking that privacy was what they needed. He saw a flicker of uncertainty once Damian realised, Tim was leading him to his own room but it disappeared when the door fell close behind them. 

“You have to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, okay? That’s non-negotiable.” The nod came slowly but it did which was the only thing that counted. Tim sat down on the bed, waving for Damian to follow, which he did but not without another flush of red. That blush would drive Tim mad.

“Lean back,” he ordered and watched Damian comply. It was a sinful thing to observe. Tim climbed on top of him, taking a moment to marvel at their situation. Never would he have thought it possible for Damian to let him do this, to expose himself like that willingly, to Tim nonetheless. Overwhelmed by his desire, he searched for Damian’s lips again, kissing him until both of them had to come up for air.

Deciding, Damian was ready for more, his hands lifted Damian’s shirt until Damian sat up to help him remove it. Now, Tim had seen Damian shirtless many times before, yet, this time was entirely different. His fingers trailed down Damian’s chest, thumb scraping his nipple on the way. Damian arched into the touch, mewled softly when Tim did it again.

Since it was only fair, Tim rid himself of his own shirt. He was so incredibly glad that all which had remained of his cuts were a few faint lines. They would disappear soon. Damian still scowled when his gaze fell to them but Tim instantly returned to touching Damian so that his expression would turn into something much more attractive.

“I wish- Drake, I want…” but he didn’t finish his sentence because Tim bit Damian’s lip, delighting in the gasp the action brought about.

“I told you not to call me by my last name when we do this,” he snarled, tongue darting out to soothe the bite. Then, he continued “now, what do you want, Dami?” But Damian seemed rendered speechless once more. Tim gave him another minute and when he still didn’t speak up, Tim proceeded to go about this the way he had planned. Ensuring, by keeping eye contact, that Damian was still on board, he opened Damian’s jeans, biting his lips at the heat radiating from his skin.

It took some doing to get Damian naked but once he laid back on the bed, Tim marvelled at his beauty.

Because that’s what he was: _beautiful_.

All that glorious tan skin on display spread out on dark-blue sheets, jade eyes burning with green fire. If all Tim could have done was stare, he would have still been a happy man. He _could_ do more, though, and he was about to.

Damian’s erection was standing out proudly, no doubt aching, hot as it looked. Tim leaned forward, kissing down Damian’s chest until he reached his navel. Slowly, he let his tongue dart out, tracing a line down Damian’s cock. Damian’s hip rocketed off the bed, almost knocking Tim off in the process.

“Easy,” he breathed, steadying Damian with a hand around his hipbone. With the other, he guided Damian’s dick into his mouth, relishing the twitch of sheer muscle under his hand. He sucked at the tip, savouring the taste. Damian couldn’t keep still under his ministrations, clenching his thighs, burying his fingers in the sheets. Tim pulled off, grinning up.

“I take it, you like that?” he asked, smugness in his tone. Damian’s face looked like it always did, sour and pissed off but underneath, Tim detected something much more interesting.

 _Need_. 

“You can grab my head, you know? There’s no need to rip the sheets,” he put Damian’s hand on his head, gasping softly, when Damian pulled at the strands of hair his fingers had closed around. He finished what he had been saying with a lewd “hold onto me instead” and watched as Damian’s eyes rolled back and his abs clenched like Tim had just swallowed him down. Which he proceeded to do just to see if he could make Damian lose even more of his precious control. It worked beautifully.

Tim noted each and every reaction, filing it away so that he could use it later.

“ _Timothy_ -” Damian suddenly gasped, hand spasming where he held onto Tim. It had been the exact moment when Tim had swallowed around him, taking him deep while putting pressure against his perineum. He felt his own cock hard in his trousers, lamenting that he didn’t have a third hand to attend to it. The sounds Damian was making, the way he moaned Tim’s name, it set his entire body on fire.

“I am- I wish to…” and he had achieved his goal. Damian couldn’t produce a coherent sentence, hips jerking like he wanted to fuck into Tim’s mouth and simultaneously losing the battle with his restraint.

“Hm? What do you want Dami?” Tim kept teasing not because he was cruel but because he delighted in having Damian try to come up with something.

“I wish- I wish to come…” he had said that before and it sparked the same heat in Tim’s body like the first time. He pressed down on his own erection, moaning around Damian’s cock at how good it felt. Damian’s back arched in an impressive curve but his hips remained firmly on the bed.

“Drake- please.” God, pleading now? Tim almost lost his head right there. Hearing Damian use that particular word even let him forget, he had called him by his surname again.

“Go on, I’ve got you,” he promised haughtily, swallowing him down again. And then Tim heard it, the most erotic thing Damian had ever said. Tim suspected it was because Damian was on the verge of coming that he let out a strangled “ _f-fuck_ ”.

Instantly, Tim redoubled his efforts, sensing how close Damian had to be. He pulled out every trick, rolling Damian’s balls in one hand and ghosting over Damian’s taint with the other. Just in time, he swallowed around him until his nose his Damian’s pubic hair.

The effect was instantaneous.

Damian came with a gasp, hips jerking violently forward. Tim held him there, continued to suck him off until Damian fell back on the bed, chest heaving like he had just walked out of battle. His fucked-out look made Tim all the more excited. He contemplated sneaking a hand down to relieve himself but decided against it, for fear of spooking Damian once again. Slowly, he looked up, careful not to make too abrupt a movement.

“Drake-” Damian spoke up, voice a lot younger and less sure of himself than Tim was used to, “I- do you wish me to…” he lifted his hand in a gesture Tim deciphered as “return the favour” and he shook his head. 

“Nah, it’s okay, I’ll just…” He stood to leave, a bit uncomfortable but no less turned on. Damian’s hand closed around his wrist before he could pick up his shirt.

“I- I would like to try,” he admitted, eyes flickering towards the bulge in Tim’s jeans. Well, that changed things. Before he could get his hopes up, he searched Damian’s face for clues of discomfort. He just didn’t find any.

“You sure?” Tim asked, “you don’t have to, Dami, you know that, right?” 

“I am aware.”

Okay then. If he wanted to try, who was Tim to deny him?

Tim motioned for Damian to scoot over, heart beating loudly in his ears as sudden nervousness took hold of him. He watched Damian get up and kneel over him, looking damn fine like that. Scooting back, he wriggled out of his jeans, almost hitting Damian in the face with his knee. A chuckle made it past his lips, involuntary and yet mirrored on Damian’s face. It lightened the mood a little and the rest of Tim’s anxiety vanished.

“You okay there?” he asked, a bit of smirk in his voice when Damian looked entirely clueless. 

“I-” Damian cleared his throat, “I am not sure how to proceed.” Admitting that must have been difficult for him and Tim decided to reward him. Sitting up, he pressed his lips against Damian’s, pulling him down in the process. Damian was still too hot for Tim, the skin contact a burning intensity against his body.

“Take your time,” he advised while Damian made his way down, kissing softly at Tim’s collarbone, his pecs, down his stomach. Seemingly hesitant, Damian let his tongue trace Tim’s abs, making Tim shiver. It took him a moment until he proceeded further down, then he looked up at Tim with wide eyes, displaying his uncertainty. Tim pushed a strand of hair out of Damian’s face, caressing his cheek in a way that he usually reserved for romantic partners.

Which, he supposed, Damian was in a sense. If he even wanted that. Before he could let himself get overwhelmed with doubt again, he guided Damian’s head down and eased his hips upward. Damian kept eye contact before taking Tim into his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” Tim breathed, not even realising what he had just said. Damian evidently noticed though, because he keened high in his throat, sending deliciously maddening vibrations through Tim’s cock. With renewed vigour and complete lack of finesse, Damian swallowed around Tim’s erection like he wanted to prove to Tim, he could send him over the edge too. And he would, but not like this. So, Tim reached for Damian’s hair and pulled softly until Damian held still. Not without a pout and a scowl though.

“Keep still?” Tim’s voice was strained. He waited for Damian to nod with a suspicious expression, like he didn’t know what Tim was about to do. Maybe, he truly didn’t.

Tim pushed his hips up until he felt Damian’s lips at the tip of his cock. While Damian might not have known where Tim was going with that, he caught on pretty quickly, and opened his mouth.

“Let me?” Tim asked, barely holding on to his sanity when Damian nodded, relaxing his jaw with the most trusting look Tim had seen on him yet. It was also the loudest “go ahead” he had ever gotten. On their own accord, Tim’s hips snapped forward, still mindful of Damian’s experience, but also chasing his pleasure. He loved the feeling of Damian swallowing around him, taking him deep. The seeming lack of gag reflex made his eyes roll back. For some time, he kept his pace even, careful not to thrust too deep despite wanting to.

Only when Damian moaned around him did he open his eyes again. They nearly bulged out of his head when he saw what had caused that sound. Damian was hard again and rutting down against the mattress. The thought alone made Tim almost topple over without any more stimulation needed.

“Fuck, Dami,” he pressed out, the hand in Damian’s hair spasming with the need to grab him and fuck him senseless. God, how could that boy turn him on so much? It shouldn’t be legal for him to look like that.

“Pull off,” he gasped, sensing his impending orgasm, “come here”. He pulled Damian up until he could feel his erection against his own when their hips aligned. Evidently, Damian didn’t know what was going on because he asked Tim with the most confused expression “was I doing it wrong?” 

“No,” Tim assured, “no, but I want you to get off too,” he paused, uncertain if he should say what he was about to and ultimately decided to go on “I want to watch.”

“How-” Damian’s brow furrowed and he wriggled a bit, like he wanted to roll his hips but didn’t know if he was allowed. Tim smiled, hands moving from Damian’s sides to his back and further down until he could cup his ass. There was a soft squeaking sound which Tim needed a moment to process. That it had come from Damian was not only surprising but incredibly sweet.

“Like this,” Tim said pulling Damian in and making his erection rut against Tim’s. Damian’s hand found his thigh and he hitched it up, making space for his larger frame in between Tim’s legs. It was such a confident move, the complete opposite of the behaviour he had displayed earlier. Together, they found a pace, with Damian rolling his hips like he had never done anything but. Tim knew, he would get it fast enough, like anything else Damian set his mind to.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he breathed, lips closing around Damian’s pulse point and sucking. He felt a sharp flash of desire when Damian shuddered in his arms, hips snapping forward.

“I- I am as well,” Damian breathed, grip tightening on Tim’s thigh. Precome made the slide of their cocks slicker; their movements grew more erratic. Tim could barely hold on, having been too close for some time now. He let his teeth sink into Damian’s skin, knowing, he liked a little pain and wanting to bring him over the edge with him. 

“Come on, Dami,” he managed between thrusts, nails raking down Damian’s back until they settled, once more, on his ass. He squeezed, fingers dipping into down until he ghosted over his entrance. Damian stiffened above him.

“T- Tim, I am- I cannot-” his words came out slurred, his eyes were screwed shut.

“What is it?” Tim asked,

“I need-” 

“What do you need? Tell me.” He realised, he would do anything. Damian needed only to tell him.

“I need to come- please…” And to think, he could be so polite. The cord in Tim’s head, he thought of as the physical embodiment of his patience, snapped right in half. He shoved his hand down, circling both of their cocks and gave a sharp jerk. Damian whined, a high sound that went straight to Tim’s dick. He quickened his pace, lips attached to Damian’s neck and whispered sweet nothings into the skin there.

“Wanna see you come, Dami.”

“You look so damn good.” And he did, muscles taught, sweat glistening on his forehead. 

“Fuck, I want you so much.” He couldn’t go on much longer but refused to topple over before Damian did. He needed to see him come again. It was essential.

“Come for me.” Damian’s gaze shot up, for a second, he looked surprised. Then he froze, halting all movement and Tim felt more than heard the moan erupting from his chest. His cock jerked in Tim’s grip, while Damian pushed his hips down, arching his back. With both his hands, Damian gripped Tim tightly, holding him in place. That was all it took for Tim to let go too.

Seeing Damian lose all his senses, watching him unashamedly chase his own pleasure made Tim come so hard, he saw white for a moment. His entire body trembled with the force of it, pulling Damian against him until the tremors subsided.

Only after a few minutes of catching his breath, Tim spoke up, voice raw.

“That was something else…” He would never be able to erase the look of utter bliss on Damian’s face when he had come that second time. Simultaneously, Damian had seemed almost confused at his peak of pleasure. It was an intoxicating thing, seeing Damian hard and aching, so desperately turned on.

“Drake, I-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Tim?” he tried to keep the vexation out of his voice but didn’t quite succeed. Even after what they had just done, Damian insisted on using his last name. It should have been laughable if it weren’t so annoying.

“Apologies,” Damian muttered, stiffening above him.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, vividly reminded of the last time they had engaged in this manner.

“Yes,” Damian said without pause, “are you … not? 

“What? Of course, I am. I was just- worried.”

“Because of last time.”

“Yeah,” he gnawed at his lip, “I’m not- look, I shared something with you, okay? And you took off. So, I thought, you didn’t really want me and now-”

“That is not the case, as I have told you.”

“I know, I know…”

“Quit being difficult, Dr- Timothy.” It almost made Tim smile, hearing that slight slip-up. He supposed, it was hard to break a habit you had indulged in for some years.

“So, you’re not freaked?”

“I am quite content at the moment,” Damian said with the usual air of arrogance. Tim saw through him though, detecting a faint blush already. 

“Do you wanna give this a go then?”

“This?”

“Us.”

“If- if you would be amenable…”

“If I would be-” a dry chuckle made it past Tim’s lips. Of course, Damian would word it like that.

“Sure, yeah, I’m amenable.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, all this drama has been quite tiring.”

“Oh, tiring was it?” now, the chuckle had developed into a full-blown laugh, “I’ll show you tiring.”

He was met with a queer sort of look and a raised brow. 

“I will hold you to that, Timothy.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t give a verbal answer this time. He also didn’t have to.

The kiss said it quite well enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you enjoy the finale of this story. Please let me know your feelings & thoughts in the comments. And don't forget to leave kudos.


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